When We've Said Goodbye
by TMara
Summary: After Christine and Raoul get married, a heartbroken Erik must find a way to live on. While he succeeds in starting a new life, he cannot forget his lost love. Will he get a second chance? E/C
1. Wedding

Okay, I know I said 200 reviews for "Love That You'll Regret" and I'll start the new story, but then I realized that I cannot punish my loyal reviewers by withholding the start of this new story any longer, when it's the others, that have not reviewed, who are at fault. So here is the first chapter. Yes, gasp, no prologue this time, we start with a regular-length chapter.

As always, this fic is movie-based, which means there was a fire at the Opera, but as always, Erik spent a few years abroad in Persia and Italy when Mme. Giry met her husband and returned to the Opera shortly before seven-year-old Christine arrived there.

Note: I do not know when the next chapter of this one will be up, since "Love That You'll Regret" will be updated first.

And please keep in mind that I do not own these characters or anything else even remotely related to POTO.

Chapter 1 - Wedding

Erik lay on the hard floor, curled up in a fetal position and hoped for death to come to him and end his suffering. Three weeks ago, when he had sent Christine away with her lover, he had thought that nothing would ever hurt him as much as losing her. In fact, he had fully expected not to be able to survive without her presence in his life. But his poor, broken heart had deceived him. It had continued beating and death had eluded him so far. Apparently it was possible, after all, to live on with a shattered heart in your chest.

But tonight… Erik shuddered at the thought of what would be happening tonight. Antoinette had been careful to keep it from him, she had not told him in so many words, but when she had seemed so ill at ease yesterday, when she had mentioned that she would be out all day and therefore could not give him a precise time when she would be able to stop by and bring him food and water, he had suspected where she would be going. He had therefore been alert, and when he had heard commotion outside in the morning, he had carefully peeked out through the keyhole of the little hut where Antoinette was hiding him from the authorities, and sure enough, he had seen her and her daughter, dressed to the nines, climbing into a carriage. He had known for sure then, and he had felt his heart break all over again. There was only one explanation for why the two ladies would have dressed up like that and why they would probably be gone all day. They would be attending the wedding.

Erik moaned like a wounded beast. This made it final. Today, Christine, _his_ Christine, and that – boy – would be joined in holy matrimony, and Erik knew that the pain he had felt three weeks ago, when he had let her go was nothing compared to what he was going through right now. Somehow he was losing her all over again. As much as he kept repeating to himself, that nothing had really changed, that she had been as lost to him before as she would be now, as long as she had not been married, he had clung to the hope that maybe she would change her mind and return to him after all. But once she would have spoken her vows that would not be possible anymore.

Today Christine would do just that, she would speak her marriage vows, binding herself to his rival till death would part them, and tonight… Erik shuddered at the thought. Tonight, the Vicomte would take full possession of Christine. The mere image of Christine, naked, in the Vicomte's arms, that boy's hands and lips all over her perfect body, caused Erik almost physical pain. Tonight, this worst nightmare would become reality, though, and Erik prayed that death would be merciful and take him now, since he feared he would not be able to stand the certainty that something so ludicrous had happened.

"Oh Christine," he groaned, "why could you not love me? Why did you have to pick this boy, prefer him over your Angel of Music, who has been watching over you so faithfully all these years? Do you not know that it is killing me to think of you in his arms?"

Xxxx

When Mme. Giry came home that night, she immediately went to the little hut, which served as storage room for gardening tools, fire wood and similar items, and where she had allowed Erik to stay ever since the fire at the Opera Populaire. She knew that this arrangement could only be temporary, that sooner or later, Erik would have to find himself a more suitable new home, preferably far away from Paris, where he was a wanted man. So far, however, Erik had been in no condition to take his life into his own hands once again. Losing Christine had thrown her friend into a severe emotional trauma and Mme. Giry had been worried about him. Therefore she had thought it best not to remind Erik of Christine and had never mentioned the young soprano to him.

Over the past three weeks Erik had somewhat calmed down, his despair over Christine's loss had given way to a quiet resignation, but Mme. Giry had not wanted to reopen Erik's barely healed wounds by telling him that his love was going to marry his rival today. She had only told him that she would be occupied elsewhere all day and would only be able to check on him late in the evening.

Mme. Giry was not sure, though, if Erik had not guessed. He was not stupid after all, and he had looked at her so strangely, when she had mentioned that he would have to wait for food till night. His eyes had been haunted…

Mme. Giry was suddenly in a hurry to see Erik, to make sure he was all right. If he had figured it out, if he knew, where she had been today, how would he deal with that additional blow to his already precarious emotional and mental state?

She quickly unlocked the door to the hut and stepped in. "Erik?" she asked softly, then gasped. Not her wildest dreams would have prepared her to the sight of Erik, lying on the floor in a fetal position, his shoulders shaking wildly with soundless sobs, his eyes red and swollen from tears, but dry now, as if he had cried so much that there were no tears left within him. Not even that night three weeks ago, when he had let Christine go, had he looked so miserable and broken.

"Oh Erik!" Mme. Giry knelt down next to him, and, wrapping her arms around him, raised him up into a sitting position. "If only I could help you!"

Erik stared ahead. At first he did not acknowledge the ballet mistress' presence, then he slowly turned to face her and whispered, barely audible, "Antoinette, I know."

His eyes had taken on that haunted look again. "I know where you have been today," he continued, his body shaking convulsively. "And I know what is happening now."

Mme. Giry nodded. It was not hard to guess what Erik had been referring to.

"He is undressing her now, making her spread her legs…" Erik's pain at that thought was palpable in the monotonous way he pronounced these words and Mme. Giry's heart went out to him.

"He is her husband now," she said softly, pulling Erik even closer to show him her compassion. "He has the right, there is nothing inappropriate about it, and.." She hesitated for a moment. "They love each other."

Erik groaned. "I know," Mme. Giry whispered to him. "I know that you love her, too, and that this hurts you, but sometimes fate throws us a monkey wrench, and things do not always go as we would like them to." She rocked Erik, as if he were a small child, trying to make him relax.

"When we love, we always hope that we can spend the rest of our lives together," she continued, "but more often than not that does not happen that way. I know what it is like to lose the person you love," she added, now fighting her own tears. "When my Jules was taken from me, I thought I could not live on without him," she confessed. "But I had Meg to think about, so I learned to lock my pain away in the deepest recesses of my heart and to live on."

Erik made a move as to interrupt her. "Shh," Mme. Giry cooed. "I know that the two situations are not exactly the same, but think about it – would you rather have Christine dead, like my Jules, or happy, even if with another man?"

Erik shuddered in her arms and Mme. Giry almost smiled. He was listening to her, and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to get him out of this stupor. "Living on without Jules was not easy," she continued, "but after a while I learned to concentrate on the positive memories instead of on the pain of losing him. See, Erik, love is always a gift. It may be short-lived and doomed, but the experience always enriches our lives, wouldn't you agree?"

Erik did not reply, and after a while, Mme. Giry spoke again. "You made Christine very happy," she whispered. "You were there for her, when her father died and nobody else could reach her but you. You taught her how to sing and helped her to achieve her dream of becoming a prima donna. Those were happy times, were they not?"

Erik nodded, tears running down his cheeks again. "Nobody can take that away from you," Mme. Giry reminded him. "No matter what has happened recently or what will happen in the future, those memories will always be there to comfort you, just like I will always have the memories of those long ago days, when my Jules told me he loved me."

Mme. Giry sighed. "We only had about two years. Half a year after I first met Jules, we got married, and slightly over a year later he died. Meg was only a few weeks old. But those two years were the best years of my life, and I am glad I had that long with Jules. I have learned to be grateful for what I had, instead of crying over what could have been."

Erik once again did not reply, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs. "Christine and you had this wonderful teacher-student-relationship for about ten years," Mme. Giry continued. "It may not have been exactly what you would have wanted your relationship to be, but it meant the world to her then, and you know that, too. Focus on that, Erik. Remember all these many hours that the two of you spent together over the past ten years, the joy you both derived from music, your pride at her success at her debut… Really, Erik, there must be so many happy memories from that time. Concentrate on what you had instead of on what you lost."

Erik groaned. "She left me." His mind could not get past this one fact, this one final action of hers that had poisoned all his previous memories of their time spent together.

Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, Erik, that's not quite it. You let her go. You practically raised her, helped her become an adult, able to make her own choices, and even though it was not what you had hoped for, you ended up accepting her decision. You allowed her to leave with the man she loves, to live the life she had chosen for herself. You gave her the ultimate gift of love, you set her free. _You_ ensured her happiness by letting her go. Does that not mean something to you?"

Erik sobbed, unable to speak. "I know it seems inconceivable to you right now," Mme. Giry continued softly, "but believe me, the time will come, when you will be able to look back on the past and appreciate whatever joy your love has brought you during your years with Christine. I am not promising that your heart will ever heal completely, for I know from personal experience that one can never stop missing a lost loved one, but it will scar, and take the sting out of your loss."

Mme. Giry smiled at Erik. "Christine did love you in her own way," she quietly stated. "Maybe not as a man, a potential love-interest or husband, but as a teacher, friend, mentor, father-figure. I do not think she would want you to waste away like that, just because she was not able to return your feelings the way you would have wanted her to. If she saw you like that, I am sure it would hurt her."

Erik looked away. "She does not care," he mumbled.

Mme. Giry shook he head. "That is not true, and you know it as well," she scolded him. "When she told me about what happened between you, her and the Vicomte that night,…"

Erik looked up. "What did she tell you?" he cried angrily.

"Not much," Mme Giry assured him. "Just that you took her to your lair and the Vicomte followed you. That you threatened the Vicomte and that in order to keep him safe, she promised to stay with you, but that you then realized that she did not love you and let them go. And that she returned the ring to you… But when she mentioned how sad you had been, how heart-broken, when she left you, she was crying. She does care, Erik. She would not want you to be so miserable."

Erik sighed. "She kissed me," he remembered. Mme. Giry gasped. Christine had failed to mention that particular detail to her.

Erik's face fell. "It was only to save that – boy," he stated. "She did not really mean it, but it felt like heaven. Can you imagine? She kissed me, ugly, hideous Erik?" He looked down. "Maybe with time,…" he sighed. "If that blasted boy with his handsome features had never re-entered her life, maybe she could have learned…"

Mme. Giry rubbed his back. "Don't, Erik," she admonished him. "Don't think like that." She turned his face so that he was looking her straight in the eyes, then quoted:

"Think of all the things we've shared and seen,  
don't think about the way things might have been…"

Erik stirred in recognition. "You do remember that song, don't you?" Mme. Giry's voice was soft and gentle. "You studied it with Christine, you helped her prepare for her triumph that night. This song contains a great wisdom, Erik, an advice you should follow. Think of her fondly, remember the good things and do not dwell on the might-have-beens."

Erik closed his eyes. "I think of her constantly," he confessed. "Of her voice, her smile, her beautiful hair, her expressive eyes, of the way her soft lips felt against mine and how she ripped my mask off in front of the audience… and it hurts. It hurts to think of her, knowing that she is gone from my life forever."

Mme. Giry sighed. "I do understand," she admitted, "honestly, Erik, I do. When I remember that I will never see my dear Jules again in this life, that thought rips my heart apart, even after all those years. But when I think about all the things the two of us did together, the time we could spend together, those memories warm my heart and brighten my day." She paused. "I know that immediately after I lost him, I was not able to concentrate on the happy memories either, but one learns to do so with time. Just remember what I told you and work towards reliving your fond memories."

Erik nodded. He was unconvinced. Right now, Christine's loss was the predominant memory connected with her, and it overshadowed any other, happier memory he might have had of his time with his former student.

"You should leave Paris," Mme. Giry suddenly interrupted Erik's thoughts, "and probably France. It would be better for you. Here you are not safe, and here everything reminds you of Christine. A change of scenery might help you deal with your broken heart, and you cannot live in this uncomfortable little hut forever. And you would need something to do, something that will keep your mind off your heartache."

Erik stared at her. "What would you have me do?" he asked sarcastically. "I cannot compose anymore with Christine gone, and you know pretty well, that nobody will want me to work for them. The world had no use for a freak before, why would they want anything to do with a heart-broken freak now?"

Mme. Giry sighed. She knew that even outside of France, where Erik was not a hunted criminal, it would be hard for him to be accepted, because of his face.

"I will give it a thought," she promised. "I am sure that sooner or later something will come up. But what about my other suggestion? Would you be willing to go abroad, at least for a certain time?"

Erik sighed. He had spent a large part of his life outside of France, in various countries. The memories from that time were not really pleasant, especially the experiences he had made in Persia still haunted his dreams. The East was therefore definitely off limits, as was Italy. It would not help to flee from France in order to escape his memories of Christine's betrayal, only to be reminded of Luciana's violent death. That did not leave many options.

"Maybe I could go to Germany," he finally said uneasily. "I do have a basic understanding of the language, but I have no idea how I could get there safely. Surely the borders will be watched?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "I have been thinking about that problem as well," she admitted, "and so far I have not come up with an idea how you can get out of France, but I am sure it is possible with the right approach…" She was glad that she had found a way to turn Erik's thoughts away from Christine and the distress she had caused him.

Erik racked his brain. "Nadir," he finally said. "He helped me get out of Persia, when the Shah wanted me killed. He should be able to help me get past the French border controls as well." He sighed. "The man is probably worried about me anyway. I should have contacted him weeks ago and let him know that I survived the fire, it simply never occurred to me to do so."

Mme. Giry smiled at him encouragingly. "You were preoccupied," she told Erik. "Your friend will understand. Now tell me how I can reach him and then the three of us can plan your escape."


	2. Escape

Wow! Already so many reviews! I couldn't help but write another chapter, but do not expect me to continue like that with one chapter each per week for both stories. I will try not to make you wait too long for updates of this one, though, while I still finish my other story "Love That You'll Regret", which has a few more chapters left.

To answer a few of your questions: I sometimes use LND-quotes for titles, because I think that the E/C-love is well portrayed in it. Obviously, though, I do not consider it to be the one and only possible way how the story could unfold after the end of POTO. And my Erik always starts out totally miserable and feeling unloved, because that's the way he is at the end of POTO and I take it from there. At least for now. Maybe one day I'll try a different approach, but at the moment I am doing "possible continuation"-stories.

Oh, and I still don't own anything or anybody, drat!

Chapter 2 – Escape

The next morning, Antoinette Giry went to see Erik's only other friend, Nadir Khan. Even though she had known of the former daroga's friendship with Erik, she had never met the man before. When she reached the address that Erik had given her, she rang the doorbell.

"I just hope this Nadir is home," she thought nervously. "And that he really has an idea how to get Erik safely across the border, for I am at a complete loss what to do and Erik is not able to think straight right now."

She need not have worried. After a short while the door of the apartment was opened by an olive-skinned oriental-looking gentleman. He looked at her quizzically and asked: "How may I help you, Madam?"

Mme. Giry greeted and asked, "am I speaking to Monsieur Nadir Khan?"

The man in front of her shook his head. "No, Madam, my name is Darius. May I ask what kind of business you have with my master?"

Mme. Giry was getting a bit nervous. Erik had not mentioned a servant. She was not sure whether or not she could trust that man. "Tell your master that Antoinette Giry needs to talk to him regarding an important matter," she finally instructed Darius, hoping that Nadir would recognize her name and guess that she wanted to talk to him about Erik.

"Oh, of course, Madam." Darius was suddenly overzealous to do as she asked. "If you please kindly step in and take a seat in the parlor, the master will be joining you shortly," he told her, showing her to a room which was furnished according to oriental customs, with a thick, soft carpet and cozy cushions on the sofa.

Mme. Giry had barely taken a seat when the door opened again and yet another olive-skinned man strode in. He was obviously agitated. "Mme. Giry?" he asked, and at her nod continued, "I am Nadir Khan. My servant Darius told me you wanted to talk to me. There is only one reason I can think of, why you would come to see me, and only one person, who could have given you my address. So – what can you tell me about Erik? Is he all right?"

Mme. Giry smiled. She knew at once that she had come to the right place. This man Nadir obviously cared deeply about Erik and had been worried about him.

"Physically, yes," she replied, "emotionally, though, he is in bad shape. He does love Christine Daaé – that is, the Vicomtesse de Chagny now – and losing her has thrown him into depression."

Nadir sighed. "I saw that coming," he told his guest. "I knew about their student-teacher-relationship and feared that one day he might want more, but she is so young, half his age, even if he were not…" Nadir hesitated. "Even with a normal face the situation would have been problematic. He is twice her age, almost old enough to be her father. It could not have lasted. I guess, deep down he knew that, but love is stronger than reason…"

Mme. Giry nodded. "He is taking it very hard," she explained. "And my house is not large enough to hide him there, so he is currently living in a small storage hut I have in the garden. He needs to get away, though, away from this city, where everything reminds him of Christine and out of this country, where he is a wanted criminal."

Nadir understood what she was getting at. "You have come to ask me to get Erik safely out of the country," he stated bluntly.

"Yes," Mme. Giry admitted. "Erik said you helped him escape from Persia, and if anybody was able to get him out of France, it would be you."

Nadir paced up and down the room a few times, murmuring in a foreign language, which Mme. Giry presumed to be Persian. Several minutes later, he stopped in front of the sofa, on which his guest was sitting, and said slowly, as if to himself, "yes, that might work." Then he faced Mme. Giry and said, "I do have an idea, but I will need to procure me a few items first, not all of which I am sure I can get here in Paris. Come by again this afternoon, at around four, by then I should know if what I have in mind is feasible. And do not worry," he added. "Even if not, we will find a way. I am glad you came to me. I promise you, that Darius and I will do our best to get that love-sick friend of ours to safety."

As soon as Mme. Giry had left, he called for Darius and gave him some instructions. The servant's eyes widened. "A good thing that master Erik speaks Persian," he finally commented. "That should help, if…"

Nadir nodded. "I know, it will be quite a challenge, but we need all these substances by three thirty at the latest. We simply have to get them. Try your best, while I make a few other arrangements. "

Xxxx

When Mme. Giry returned to Nadir's home a few hours later, the former daroga smiled at her. "Everything is ready, Madam," he said. "Tomorrow night, I will pick up Erik and help him leave the country, but this endeavor requires a lot of preparation, so listen to me carefully."

He handed a small bottle to Mme. Giry. "When you come home, give this to Erik. He should apply this lotion to the left side of his face, and to his hands and arms, up to the elbow, I'd say. It is quite harmless, but it needs to be applied evenly, maybe you can help him. It takes a few hours, but this lotion will darken his skin, so that it will look similar to mine. The effect is not permanent, in about three weeks, he will return to normal. Just make sure, it is applied evenly, or it will look blotchy."

Mme. Giry stared at Nadir. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "Why would anybody want such a substance?"

Nadir smiled. "I prepared it myself. I know quite a bit about herbs and such. I was just lucky I could get all the necessary ingredients here. But there is more. Tomorrow, once Erik's skin will have darkened, he is to put on this outfit."Nadir showed her some colorful clothes of oriental design. "And at around noon tomorrow, he should take ten drops of this."He held out a small vial filled with a clear liquid.

"Ten drops, less would probably not produce the right symptoms, and more might be a bit …" Nadir shook his head. "Ten drops. Erik will understand the importance of counting correctly. It will give him a mild fever. Darius and I will come to your house at six in the afternoon tomorrow, to pick up Erik. By then he will be feverish. We will wrap his head with bandages to hide his deformity. Darius will drive the carriage, I will ride in it with Erik, we will all three wear Persian clothes. If they stop us, we are three foreigners traveling through Europe, and my young cousin Reza has had an accident. He hurt his head, is suffering from a concussion and feverish. We are in a hurry to reach the nearest town across the border, where friends are waiting for us and where my poor cousin will get medical attention. We pretend that only I speak a bit French, Darius and Erik will only speak Persian." Nadir chuckled. "I want to see the border control officers that dare stopping a foreigner, for fear of causing a diplomatic incident."

Mme Giry smiled. That plan could actually work. One point concerned her, though. "This medication which causes fever,…" she asked. "It won't harm him, right?"

Nadir squirmed. "It should not harm him. The fever might rise, though," he admitted a bit uneasily, "before it breaks, so at worst he will be sick for a few days, but Darius and I will be with him constantly and take care of him, should that happen. The fever is necessary for Erik's safety. If we only bandage his face the border guards might suspect who he is, even if we alter his appearance a bit with the darker skin, but if he is feverish they will believe that he is bandaged because of a head injury. In a few days, Erik will be safely out of France and well again."

Xxxx

Everything went according to plan. Erik was not too thrilled about causing himself a fever, but he understood the necessity of doing so and he trusted Nadir enough to follow all the instructions Mme. Giry had relayed to him together with the two bottles and the Persian outfit.

As suggested by Nadir, Mme. Giry helped with the skin coloring lotion, since Erik could not bear the thought of using a mirror in order to make sure the substance was rubbed in evenly. When he woke the next morning, his face, hands and arms had taken on an oriental hue, and once he had donned the Persian clothes, Erik could indeed pass for an oriental tourist.

At noon, he swallowed ten drops of the clear liquid and about an hour later Erik began to display the symptoms of a mild fever. He was not feeling too well, when Nadir and Darius showed up, both wearing colorful Persian clothes. Nadir quickly bandaged Erik's head and helped his friend into the carriage.

"From now on we only speak Persian," Nadir reminded Erik, using that particular language.

"I will have to kill you," Erik groaned, also in Persian, "my head hurts as if somebody had dropped a ton of potatoes on top of it."

Nadir chuckled. "Sit still and try to relax," he advised, "then your head should not hurt quite as much."

Since Erik's fever rose they had to stop more often than they had originally planned. Therefore they reached the border only two days later. They were stopped by a few soldiers, that were commanded by a Lieutenant.

Nadir climbed out of the carriage and produced a lot of official looking papers adorned with the grand seal of the shah. None of these documents were valid anymore, but since they were written in Persian, the soldiers were unable to understand them anyway.

"State the purpose of your travel," the Lieutenant ordered gruffly.

"We travel to learn," Nadir explained. "Teach people at home. So can have modern things too."

The Lieutenant looked at him, unsure if this foreigner was unable to express himself better in French or if he was having fun at his expenses. He turned to Darius. "You over there, what is your name?"

Darius stared at Nadir. "What did he say, master?" he asked in Persian. Nadir translated it for him.

"Speak French!" the Lieutenant roared. "I do not understand your language!"

Nadir smiled. "Many excuses, officer, Sir," he said. "Darius be humble servant, not speak French."

The officer relented. "So this man's name is Darius and he is your servant?" he asked.

Nadir nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said, "so it is. Me Nadir Khan. And there" he pointed to the carriage, "Reza Khan. He son of brother of father mine."

The officer groaned. "You mean that man in there is the son of your father's brother? Your cousin, that is?"

Nadir beamed. "Cousin! That word I not remembered, but right word." He pointed to the carriage. "Reza sick. We sit under tree, picnic. Wind, big branch fall down on head of Reza. Much blood on head. Brain shaken. Head much hurt. Fever. We go to friends in Belgium. Friend is medicinal man, make Reza healthy."

The Lieutenant was furious. "Man, who is supposed to understand your gibberish," he sighed, exasperated. "The way I understand you, your cousin Reza was hit by a branch while you were sitting under a tree and having a picnic. Is that correct?"

Nadir nodded. "Yes, so it was," he confirmed.

"The branch hit him on the head, he had a bleeding wound and a concussion and is feverish, and you are traveling to Belgium to meet with a friend of yours, who is a doctor, so that he can treat your cousin?"

"You say better words than I," admitted Nadir, "but so I mean."

Erik had overheard the whole conversation from the carriage and he was getting impatient. "Where are we, Nadir, why have we stopped?" he asked in Persian, his voice sounding raspy from the fever.

The Lieutenant paused. He had had his doubts about the Persian man's story, but this cousin definitely did sound sick. What if what that strange foreigner had told him was true? What if he really was a high dignitary, travelling under the protection of the shah, and his cousin was sick and needed treatment?

"May I see your cousin?" he asked. He needed to confirm that the man in the carriage was really injured and feverish. If that part was true, then chances were rather high that the rest of the story was genuine as well.

"Yes," Nadir replied. "But Reza not speak French. Not can answer you."

The Lieutenant thought by himself that this was a blessing. One Persian talking gibberish was enough, he was not sure he could stomach a second one. He cautiously approached the carriage and looked in. He saw another man wearing clothes similar to the one he had talked to before, whose head was bandaged.

"Nadir?" Erik rasped, turning his unbandaged left side towards the Lieutenant. "Who is this?"

Nadir soothingly replied in Persian, "do not worry, Reza, this is an officer of the glorious French Army. We are at the Belgian border, we will soon be with our doctor-friend and he will treat you."

Erik pretended to relax, while all his senses were as alert as the fever allowed. He need not have worried, though. One gaze into his sweaty face, his feverishly gleaming eyes, convinced the officer that the man in front of him was indeed ill. The bandaged head confirmed that the fever had been caused by an injury.

"All clear," the Lieutenant finally told Nadir, "you may pass, but take my advice. If you plan on ever coming back to France, you'd better study the language more thoroughly. It is really hard to make sense of the gibberish you speak."

"Learn French better," Nadir promised. "Much gratitude for help." With that he climbed back into the carriage and Darius drove them across the border.

As soon as they reached the next village, they stopped. Erik's fever was getting dangerously high and both, Nadir and Darius feared that they might have misjudged the dosage. They rented a room at a tiny country inn, so that Erik could get some rest.

Once he was out of the constantly shaking carriage, Erik felt better, though, and three days later he was able to continue the journey.

Xxxx

Erik had decided that he wanted to go to Berlin, which was far enough away from the French border that he would feel safe there, and it was large enough a city that he could hope to fade into anonymity.

Once they were on German territory, the three men exchanged their oriental robes for normal European clothes. Ironically their joke of not being able to speak the language correctly now turned into reality. Nadir and Darius had no knowledge of the German language whatsoever. Erik at least understood a lot, but his grasp of the grammar was rudimentary and therefore he could only compose simple sentences. He was a quick learner, though, and had always had a talent for languages. When they arrived in Berlin a few weeks later, Erik was already almost fluent, while his two friends were still struggling with the most basic vocabulary.

Nadir and Darius decided to stay with Erik at least for the time being. While their journey had helped Erik get over his heartache by taking his mind off the loss of his beloved Christine, Erik still felt uncomfortable around people. He had made himself a new mask of thin, cream-colored leather, which almost matched the tone of his skin. At first glance, or from a certain distance, most people would not even notice that he was wearing a mask, but Erik's fear of being treated like a beast ran deep. He would not be able to shake it off too easily. He was therefore glad that his friends would be staying with him and run all the errands for their little household.

There was no need for any of them to find a job right away. Nadir had not only made sure that his own small pension would be transferred to a German bank from now on, he had also been able to transfer Erik's considerable bank account there as well. Since Erik had always hated appearing in public, Nadir had always had access to that account as well, so that he could deposit Erik's "salary" or withdraw cash when needed. This arrangement had now come in handy. Since nobody suspected that the wealthy Erik Dumesnil, who always conducted his bank transactions through his proxy Nadir Khan, was the wanted criminal known as "The Phantom", Nadir had had no problems having the transfer arranged the day Mme. Giry had come to him to ask for help getting Erik out of France.

Once the three men were settled in Berlin, Erik wrote a letter to Mme. Giry. Since he thought that there was a high probability that the French police would check her mail, he was careful to phrase it in a way that only she would be able to read between the lines and understand the true message.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was nervously waiting for news from either Erik or Nadir. The longer it took, the more nervous she got. Even though there had been no big headlines about the phantom having been caught and she was therefore reasonably certain that Nadir's plan had worked and Erik was not in France any longer, she was worried. What if the medication had not worked as planned and Erik had gotten seriously ill? Or maybe they had had a carriage accident?

Finally, two months after Erik had left, she finally received a letter. She did not recognize the handwriting, since Erik had taken the precaution of dictating it to Nadir, but once she had read it, she sighed in relief. Erik was safe. The letter read as follows:

Dear Mme. Giry,

Your advice to consult that specialist in Berlin was very helpful. My health has already improved tremendously. In order to ensure a complete recovery, I will have to remain there for a while longer. The doctor ensures me that one day I will be able to work again.

Yours faithfully  
Erik Dumesnil


	3. New Life

Another chapter! Thank you for reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting, it is your continued support that keeps me going. I cannot say it often enough. Thank you!

Anyway, Erik is beginning to start his "life after Christine", and at first it is not easy for him. I still do not own anything or anybody, just to make sure you are not getting the wrong impression. ;-)

Chapter 3 – New Life

The first few weeks in Berlin passed quickly. The three men were busy settling in and buying the necessary furniture and household items for their new home. Even though Erik swore that he would never go anywhere near it, Nadir insisted on buying a piano as well. He knew that sooner or later Erik would need his music.

Erik took it upon himself to design the interior of their little house. He decided which room would serve what purpose, what color the walls should be painted, where they'd best put a table or a chest of drawers, or where a flower pot would add a friendly touch. Nadir and Darius, on the other hand, had to deal with the various artisans and find pieces of furniture that matched Erik's specifications.

Since they were new in Berlin and did not know anybody, it took them several weeks to have everything arranged and to find out where they could purchase everything they needed. Nadir and Darius were glad that Erik seemed to enjoy working for their new home and hoped that the change of place and the new surroundings might have more or less cured his depression. Once they were settled in, though, Erik found himself once again with lots of spare time on his hands, and as there was no task that would have kept him occupied, his mind began to wander back to Paris again. Christine´s beautiful features, her pure voice that he had trained himself, her sweet smile, her luscious dark curls, haunted his dreams, and when he closed his eyes he tried to imagine the feel of her lips against his when she had kissed him in order to save her fiancé's life.

Erik's heart was filled with longing for his former student, while at the same time it writhed in agony at the thought that she had left him and was now married to that – boy. Torn between unfulfillable desire, self-pity, jealousy, Erik became restless. He did not sleep well, and began to eat less than usual.

Once Erik started to lose weight, Nadir and Darius began to worry. They tried their best to take Erik's mind off his lost love, to talk to him about anything that might keep his interest for a while so that his thoughts would not wander back to Christine again. At first they succeeded on occasion, but the more time passed, the more Erik missed his former protégée. In his mind, he relived every moment he had spent with her, but instead of enjoying the happy memories of their years together, he began to analyze those memories. When had she begun to turn away from him? Had it been when that childhood friend of hers had become the new patron? Or when she had seen his own wretched face for the first time?

Erik shook his head. Something Christine had said to him that last night had emerged from the depths of his mind and begun to haunt him. What had she said? Something about his face and his soul. That the true horror was not in his face, but in his distorted soul. He had not paid attention to her words then, he had been too agitated, mad with jealous rage, but somehow these words had registered with his subconscious and now, that he had remembered them, they made him think.

What would Christine's choice have been if she had not had reason to fear his outbursts, the rage, the fury, all those manifestations of his evil, lost soul? Erik groaned. What if Christine had been able to look beyond his face – and all she found there was anger, jealousy, madness and violence? What if it was not her fault, a betrayal of some kind, that she had chosen the other man, but his own actions that had driven her away?

The more Erik thought about Christine, the more details he remembered about the years he had watched over her as her angel and taught her to sing, the more agitated and confused he became. He wanted to hate her for preferring the Vicomte over him, while at the same time he dreamed of her kiss and longed to hold her in his arms again. And then there was the nagging thought that maybe he had driven her away himself, that maybe his behavior, his actions had hurt her enough to seek refuge in her childhood sweetheart's arms.

"You need music." Nadir's blunt statement interrupted Erik's thoughts.

Erik stared ahead. "I can't," he whispered in a broken voice. "When I lost Christine, I lost everything, my love, my heart, my chance at a normal life, and my music, my inspiration."

Nadir gently put a hand on Erik's shoulder and turned him around so that he was facing the piano. "Maybe that's what you think," he said calmly. "But I know that music has always been extremely important to you, that you have always been able to express your deepest feelings through music, that it has helped you deal with so many negative experiences and emotions. Trust me, Erik, music will help you over this as well."

Erik looked at the piano. What Nadir had just said was true. Music had always been able to calm him and sooth him, to help him overcome even the worst abuse and rejection. He hesitated again. Somehow, when he had lost Christine, he had lost his connection to music as well. Was it possible to regain that at least? Would he ever be able to play the piano or the violin again, without being reminded of her, of all the hopes he had built around her person, and of the raw pain she had inflicted upon him when she chose the handsome young nobleman over her angel?

"I... I don't know," Erik stammered. "I have not played in so many months. Even if I wanted to, I probably would not be able to play, my fingers are out of practice..."

Nadir smiled. "Well, we'll never know, unless you try." With these words he coaxed Erik towards the piano. Erik sat down on the piano bench and slowly opened the cover. The ebony and ivory keys beckoned to him, and he felt drawn to them. He tentatively reached out and pressed a key. A clear sound echoed through the silent room, a sound almost a pure as Christine's voice and Erik broke down sobbing, his arms crashing down on the piano and producing a dissonance.

"I cannot," Erik wailed. "It is too painful. Music reminds me of her! When she left, she took my music with her as well."

Nadir patted Erik's back. "It will come back to you," he promised, trying just as much to convince himself of that fact as to convince Erik. "And once you will have found your music again, it will help your heart to heal."

It took Erik a long while to calm down, and once he had stopped sobbing, he was convinced that he would never again make another attempt at playing the piano. Yet the next day he felt himself drawn to the instrument again. For the next few days, Nadir observed how Erik nervously circled around the piano, without ever coming close enough to open the cover and touch a key, but that he did that at all, filled Nadir with hope.

After a few days, Erik finally sat down in front of the piano again, but he did not touch it. Nadir did not say one single word to encourage him. He knew that Erik had to find his way back to his music by himself, and he was willing to give his friend all the time he needed to do so.

Finally, about half a year after their arrival in Berlin, Erik dared touch the keys of the piano again. This time he played a few notes, a short, incredibly sad melody, that brought tears to Nadir's eyes.

Erik stopped again and stared at the piano. "It hurts," he murmured. "Being without Christine hurts so much. More than anything I have endured so far, more than my mother's heartless attitude towards me, more than the gypsies' cruelties, more than any pain or injury I have ever suffered, more than anything."

Nadir took a deep breath to steady himself. He was deeply moved by Erik's words. "That was beautiful," he whispered. "The short melody you played, it was simply beautiful. It touched my soul. Do you remember it? Can you repeat it?"

Erik nodded, and after another moment of hesitation he played the short sequence again, only this time he did not stop, but played on. He poured all his pain, his love and his longing into his music. He played on and on. It was as if a dam within him had broken and the long-neglected music was finally breaking free. Music had a cathartic effect on Erik. By playing he was finally able to deal with all those emotions that had plagued him for months. Through his music he was able to reconcile his love for Christine with the pain she had caused him and the jealousy he felt for her – husband.

Once again the finality of his loss hit Erik. She was gone from his life for good. Even though he now thought that maybe, if he had done things differently, she might have been able to love him, he knew that such thoughts were moot now. It did not matter anymore what might have been, for now it never could be. Now she was somebody else's wife and lost to him forever.

Xxxx.

Once Erik had found his music again, he began to appreciate life again. He started to eat more regularly, and after a while he even was able to sleep through the night again. Slowly, but steadily, his mood improved, and after another month or two, Nadir noticed that his friend's wry sense of humor was returning.

Christine's image always lingered at the back of Erik's mind, and he knew that no other person would ever be able to fill the hole she had left in his heart, but he was able to function normally again, and when he sat in front of the piano and coaxed the most wonderful melodies out of the instrument, he could forget the pain she had caused him and concentrate on the love for her that still filled his whole being with warmth and tenderness.

Nadir usually listened silently to Erik's improvisations on the piano. When Erik played, his soul lay bare, and Nadir began to realize how deep and strong and all-encompassing Erik's love for his former student was.

"Maybe I was wrong," Nadir found himself thinking more than once. "Maybe this could have worked after all, if she had given it a try, for one thing is absolutely certain, nobody, not even her husband, can love her as much as Erik does."

Xxxxx

Slightly over a year had passed by since the night of the fire at the Opéra Populaire, the night in which Erik had made one last attempt to win Christine's love and had failed. Erik rarely if ever left their home, but he spent most of his time with music. Somehow life without Christine only seemed bearable to him when he could lose himself in the magic created by melody and harmony.

Nadir and Darius knew that their friend was not quite free of his depression yet, but he definitely was over the worst. "He needs a purpose," Nadir thought to himself. "If it were not for his face, I would suggest a job of some kind. Erik needs a goal, something he wants to achieve and that is possible for him to do, despite his birth defect." He racked his brain for a few days, trying to come up with some type of gratifying, fulfilling activity that Erik could do and that he would enjoy doing.

One day, Nadir had an idea. After having listened to Erik's playing for a while, he looked at his friend and said. "You know, Erik, I feel privileged. I can hear those stirring, gripping melodies of yours all the time. I enjoy your music tremendously, it touches me on so many levels. Of course it is exhilarating to know that Darius and I are the only people that you allow to get a taste of your talent, that you deem worthy enough, but sometimes I think what a pity it is that you are not sharing those wonderful melodies with the rest of the world. Surely there are hundreds and thousands of music lovers out there that would appreciate them as well. Have you never considered making your music available to them as well?"

Erik shook his head. "You do not expect me to perform elsewhere, do you?" Erik seethed. "For, in case you have forgotten how humanity will treat the likes of me, I have not."

Nadir patted Erik's shoulder. "I was not thinking of you performing," he tried to soothe Erik. "I know that this would be truly too much to ask of you. But have you considered publishing your music? Then people could play it at home or in concert halls and you would not have to personally play for them. You would get paid, and you would get the recognition that your talent deserves. You would be able to do something meaningful, to bring many people joy through your music, and to leave a legacy behind."

Erik winced. "I would have to allow others to butcher my music," he complained. "The thought of those pieces performed poorly makes me ill. And..." he looked away. "Those melodies, these pieces of music... they are private, they are my innermost feelings. How can I reveal them to strangers?"

"I understand," Nadir smiled at Erik encouragingly. "But I cannot help but feel that you are withholding a great treasure from humanity, and that music might be your way to become accepted and even liked. Think about it Erik. Maybe that's what you are meant to do in this world, to share the music."

Erik was not easily convinced, but the longer he thought about it, the more he had to admit that Nadir had a point. Maybe, his wretched existence served a purpose after all, maybe he was meant to share his music with the world and in doing so touch the hearts of many people.

Once the thought had taken root in Erik's mind, he began to write down his compositions, to sift through them and arrange them. Periods of confidence, when he was convinced that his music would be appreciated by humanity, alternated with periods of doubt, when Erik felt as if he were somehow asking for trouble by even considering some interaction with the rest of mankind, even if that interaction was limited to sharing his music with them.

Nadir kept his distance. He did not encourage Erik or give him directions in what pieces he thought might be most appreciated by a larger audience. He wanted this to be Erik's own project, so that Erik alone would be deserving of the recognition his work would receive once it was published.

Almost another year went by, until Erik finally had put together an album for piano. He had chosen his favorite melodies and arranged them in a way that a skilled amateur would be able to perform them. Of course in Erik's opinion only a virtuoso would manage to coax every emotion and every meaning out of these simple compositions, and that a more complex accompaniment would have enhanced the melodies even more, but even he was aware of the fact that most music enthusiasts were not virtuosos. If he wanted his music to be appreciated at soirées and afternoon teas, he had to keep the difficulty at a medium level.

Once Erik was satisfied with his piano album, Nadir contacted one of Berlin's leading music publishing companies. They were at first a bit reluctant to do a whole album by an as-of-yet unknown composer. "We usually make a trial-run with just one piece," Johann Lüders, the director of the company, explained to Nadir. "Two or three pages, not longer, in order to keep costs down, should it not sell, and once we can judge the audience's response to this kind of music we commission more."

Nadir replied that he perfectly understood Mr. Lüders' point of view, and that this was a very sensible way to do business, then he showed him Erik's compositions and asked which one he would like to pick for such a trial-run. Mr. Lüders looked at the various pieces, humming a few bars here and there. The longer he looked, the more enthusiastic he got.

"This is unusual," he finally admitted. "Every single one of these pieces is great. They are very emotional, but society, and especially the ladies, like that. I can hardly believe that this Erik Dumesnil has not published anything before, he definitely is an accomplished composer. I therefore assume, that he must be quite young?"

Nadir smiled his enigmatic smile. "Monsieur Dumesnil is in his late thirties. There are certain … ah.. personal reasons, why he has not seen fit to publish his works before, but now he would like to give it a try."

Mr. Lüders thought about it for another minute or so, then he sighed. "I will risk it," he said. "It's not sound business, but this is just too good. I cannot pass up the chance to work with such a talented composer. If I don't do it, a competitor might have less qualms and I would lose this chance."

Nadir's smile widened. "I assure you, you will not regret this decision," he said.

Xxx

About two years after "Don Juan Triumphant" Erik's piano compositions were released, and three months later a collection of songs, entitled "Forgive Me", with the enigmatic dedication "To the one who holds my heart".

Both albums were incredibly popular, especially the melancholic songs that spoke of love and loss and longing appealed to the ladies, and many of them were secretly dreaming of a love as deep and strong as the one expressed in these songs. In their mind the mysterious Erik Dumesnil, who never attended any social function, became the ultimate romantic hero, and more than one was convinced that she would be able to heal his wounded heart, if only she would get a chance to meet him.


	4. Acceptance

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting, favoriting! I know the start of this story is slow, but it will pick up speed once Christine reenters the picture. I first had to position Erik where I wanted him to be when they meet again

Anyway, as much as I wish I would I do not own a thing about POTO.

Chapter 4 – Acceptance

Once he had published his first album and both, reviews in the local newspapers as well as the large sum he earned from royalties, showed Erik that his compositions were well received by the German audience, he began to enjoy writing music for all those that could appreciate it. The fact that Mister Lüders had told him through Nadir that his company would be willing to print whatever else he might want to publish, encouraged Erik even further, and soon not a month went by without a new album by Erik Dumesnil. Erik wrote piano music, sonatas for violin, chamber music, choir music, and more songs.

While Erik's instrumental pieces sold well enough, it was mostly his songs that established his reputation as society's favorite composer. The wives and daughters of Berlin's most influential citizens adored his songs, which they were convinced were inspired by a tragic love-story. In their opinion, the fact that nobody had ever met Dumesnil, even though he supposedly lived in Berlin, added a mysterious, romantic touch to the composer, which increased his appeal to them even more.

On several occasions, Mister Lüders had tried to make Nadir promise that he would convince his reclusive friend to attend a social function of some kind, but so far Nadir had always told Lüders in no uncertain words that Monsieur Dumesnil hated that kind of attention and could therefore never be persuaded to socialize.

Erik had indeed no desire whatsoever of ever leaving the house again and of having to interact with fellow human beings. His life had been a solitary one at the Opéra Populaire, he was not used to having company, and he loathed crowds. He did miss opera, though, the chance of watching performances, of enjoying the effect created by the combined efforts of so many people, the ensemble of set design, costumes, music, acting and dance which was more than the sum of its parts and appealed to all the senses.

Nadir was a bit concerned about Erik's refusal to leave the house. In his opinion such a confined life could not be healthy in the long run. He therefore kept thinking of ways how to make Erik go out at least on occasion. Once he noticed that Erik missed opera, Nadir was determined to use this fact to his advantage.

One afternoon, when Erik was working on a new piano sonata, Nadir suddenly announced that he had to get changed, since he would be going out that evening. Erik barely seemed to listen, therefore Nadir explained again. "I am sorry, Erik," he said, "but you and Darius will be alone for dinner tonight. I am going to the opera. They are performing "The Magic Flute", and you know how much I like this particular play."

This time the message registered with Erik. He looked at Nadir, envy in his eyes. "The Magic Flute," he sighed. "It has been such a long time since I have seen a performance of it..." He remembered a particularly beautiful production of Mozart's masterpiece at the Opéra Populaire, shortly after Christine had joined the ballet. Both she and Antoinette's daughter, together with several others of the youngest rats de ballet, had played the wild animals that were attracted by the sound of Tamino playing the flute. How cute Christine had looked in her ladybird costume, while Meg had been a rabbit.

Nadir side-glanced at Erik. "I thought you would not want to leave the house," he said slyly. "Of course, if I had known that you would want to see this production as well..."

Erik shook his head, albeit a bit reluctantly. He did want to see the performance, but he was not ready to mingle with the crowd. "I cannot go, you know that," he brusquely told Nadir.

The Persian nodded. "I did not think you would come," Nadir conceded, then left.

Erik stood silent for a long time, staring at the spot where his friend had been just a few moments earlier. "If only..." he thought. If only he had a normal face, if only he could do all those things that every other person did, like going to the opera or a concert if he felt like it.

The next morning Nadir spoke about nothing but the performance he had seen. He described the sets and costumes to Erik and tried to convey the impression this production had made on him. "I wish you had come with me, Erik," he sighed. "I am certain you would have enjoyed the evening. The singers were mostly excellent, I particularly enjoyed Karl Heinzius, who played Sarastro. Such a luxurious basso voice!"

Erik seethed inwardly. Was it not bad enough that Nadir could go see an opera, when he, Erik, could not? Did Nadir have to rub it in like that and remind Erik of the limitations that his hideous face had forced him to accept?

Xxxx

A few weeks later Nadir went to a concert, then to the opera again. He never mentioned that he would have loved Erik to accompany him, but he always raved about the great experience for days, thus ensuring that Erik's desire to attend a performance kept growing, until one day Erik grudgingly admitted that he missed the theater atmosphere and envied Nadir for being able to go there from time to time.

"You could go, too," Nadir quietly commented. "The mask you are wearing nowadays is almost the same color as your skin, from a distance, most people won't even realize it is a mask, especially considering the poor light in theaters and concert halls. I do not think that it would be risky for you to go out in the evening. I am not trying to influence you, Erik, but I think it would be good for you to leave the house every now and then. Please promise me, that you will at least give it a thought. Maybe you should not choose the opera for your first excursion, but something smaller, more intimate, like a chamber music concert, and if this works out well, then we can start planning to attend a bigger event."

Another month went by, before they approached the topic again. Nadir was reading the morning paper at breakfast, when he suddenly burst out, "next week the famous pianist Franz Stegmüller will perform various sonatas and other pieces for piano at the small concert hall. He is supposed to be excellent. I have never heard him play, but now I will finally get a chance to do so." He looked at Erik pointedly. "I could get seats in the back, if I sit to your right, in the poorly lit concert hall nobody will notice your face. Please say, that you will come!"

At first Erik wanted to object, but finally Nadir convinced him to give it a try. "It will be such a small event," Nadir insisted, "not crowded at all. We can arrive at the last minute and just sneak in, and once Stegmüller is finished, we are the first ones out." Intrigued by the possibility of enjoying a concert again, Erik finally capitulated and agreed to attend the event.

Xxxx

To Erik's immense surprise, Nadir's plan worked. Nadir got them seats at the very back of the auditorium, they arrived at the last possible moment, when the lights were already dimmed, listened to the pianist's performance and left the moment he had finished the last piece of the program. Nobody noticed anything strange about Erik, nobody made any comment, and the two friends got in and out of the concert hall without any problems. Even Erik admitted, that his first excursion since his arrival in Berlin had not been dangerous for him at all. Since things had gone so smoothly, he was willing to consider another similar event in the near future.

About a week after Stegmüller's concert, Erik accompanied Nadir to the opera. Even though he was not a hundred percent happy with everything and might have done a few things differently, if he had been in charge, he still enjoyed the performance and especially the atmosphere of the theater. He almost felt homesick and longed for his old home at the Opéra Populaire. In fact, Erik was so overwhelmed by attending a live performance again, that he and Nadir began to go to the opera quite frequently.

Xxxx

Almost half a year had passed since Erik had attended his first concert in Berlin, when Nadir had an appointment with Mister Lüders, in order to discuss terms for the publishing of a piano concerto Erik was currently working on. Lüders mentioned a possible date for the first performance of the concerto, then went on to suggest various soloists. "I personally, would like to ask Stegmüller," he began, then added, "but since Mister Dumesnil thinks his legato is not smooth enough..." he let his voice trail, while closely observing Nadir's reaction.

Nadir looked up startled. Erik had indeed voiced that particular criticism after Stegmüller's performance, but how could Lüders know that? "What gives you the impression that Erik Dumesnil feels that way about the famous pianist?" he asked cautiously.

Mr. Lüders smiled. "I was at Stegmüller's solo evening as well," he admitted. "I saw you there with a gentleman who seemed to be in his late thirties, which is, as you yourself told me, Mister Dumesnil's age. I was surprised that you were sitting so far back, but thought that maybe you had been a bit late at the ticket office and that no better seats were available any more. Anyway, I had to hurry home afterwards, since my son Fritz was sick, so I left immediately after Stegmüller's last number. On my way out, I passed you and your young friend, who were waiting for a cab. The two of you spoke French and I overheard you address him as Erik, and he made that comment about Stegmüller's performance. That's when I knew that your friend had to be Dumesnil. I was about to approach the two of you, when..." Mr. Lüders paused, then faced Nadir. "I remembered that Mister Dumesnil does not want to socialize," he said putting a strange emphasis on his words.

Nadir was beginning to get nervous. "That was certainly very considerate of you," he said politely, but he could not prevent his slightly shaking voice from betraying his unease.

Mister Lüders shook his head. "I am not a stupid man, Mister Khan," he said. "When you told me that Mister Dumesnil did not go out and meet people, I knew this could only mean one of two things. Dumesnil was either the pen name of some high-ranking person, who did not want his real name associated with composing, or Mister Dumesnil had reason to fear he might not be accepted in society. A handicap of some sort came to mind. I easily dismissed the third possibility, namely that Dumesnil was really a wanted criminal, for no criminal would be able to write music like that."

Nadir fidgeted nervously. If Lüders only knew how close he had come to the truth!

"I also realized soon enough that it was not a pen-name for a nobleman. The speed with which Dumesnil produces one masterpiece after the other makes it quite clear that he spends most of his time composing. He would not have the time to represent or take on any other public duties as all the men of nobility do. That left the last option, namely that Dumesnil was handicapped. Since he needs his arms and hands for playing music, I thought maybe there was a problem with his legs. I thought maybe he had lost a limb in battle or was paralyzed or something of the sort."

Lüders glanced at Nadir, whose nervousness was proof enough that Lüders was on to something. "The man I saw you with at Stegmüller's concert was able-bodied, though,"Lüders continued. "And I was beginning to doubt my theory, when I suddenly realized that maybe the two of you had been sitting so far back for a reason, that maybe Dumesnil feared to be seen, that something was wrong with his face. Or rather, the right side of it, for I have seen his left profile and it looks not different from the faces of other people. But I also noticed that you were at his right side, shielding him from views. I've seen the two of you a couple more times over the past few months, and you are always to his right. Thus, I am fairly convinced that the right side of his face is somewhat scarred, disfigured, different."

Nadir gasped in shock. If Erik learned about Mister Lüders' theory he would most certainly throw a tantrum, or worse, kill him. Or maybe Lüders. Or both of them.

"Nobody will think less of Mister Dumesnil because of this, though," Mister Lüders continued. "We have many veterans here in Berlin with all sorts of scars and handicaps. Of course I can understand how a destroyed face might affect a man as young as Mister Dumesnil, especially since he would probably pass for handsome without that handicap. This affliction of his... it explains the tragic undertone of his love songs. They are all based on personal experience, are they not?"

Nadir nodded. He was speechless at the unexpected turn this conversation was taking.

"I understand why Mister Dumesnil may be reluctant to appear in public, but he is well-liked and appreciated for his work, his looks won't make a difference. People are eager to meet him, and the ladies will find him even more romantic once they understand that he has had no luck in love because of his injury. I therefore suggest that Mister Dumesnil perform his piano concerto himself," Mister Lüders continued. "I will make sure that the piano is positioned in a way that the audience will only see his left profile and that the lights will be fairly dim while he is on stage. He does not have to attend any function afterwards, if he does not want to. Nobody needs to know about his face at this first public appearance, let them cheer for the composer and pianist. Once he feels accepted I will personally introduce him to a few select members of society. I am sure he would be a great success if he could be convinced to do this."

Nadir shook his head in doubt. "Erik will kill me if I as much as hint at such a possibility," he said. "He has suffered a lot of abuse because of his – handicap – as you call it. He is wary of people."

Lüders nodded. "We therefore need to help him find his place in society. If you do not want to approach this topic with him, arrange a meeting between him and me, and I will bring it up. I am not giving up hope yet that he will perform his piano concerto himself."

Nadir sighed. "Give me a few days," he finally uttered. "I need to think about this, consider all the possible risks for Erik or objections he might have."

Mister Lüders nodded. "I really think it would be a great success for Mister Dumesnil," he repeated.

Xxxx

Erik noticed at once that Nadir was agitated when the latter returned home from his meeting with Mister Lüders. "Is there a problem with the piano concerto?" he asked. "Does Lüders not like it?"

Nadir shook his head. "No, nothing of the sort," he said, then added, "sit down Erik, I must tell you something." Erik gave him a surprised look, but sat down, curious to learn what had upset Nadir.

"Lüders knows," Nadir blurted out. "He saw us at Stegmüller's concert and a few other occasions. He explained to me why he thinks something must be wrong with your face." And he repeated almost verbatim what Mister Lüders had said.

Erik jumped up and started pacing. "We must leave immediately," he spat out. "It is too dangerous to stay here."

Nadir put his hand on Erik's arm. "Lüders has not told anybody," he said, "and he is not going to, if you do not want him to. He is even planning to make sure nobody suspects anything about your face if you ..." Nadir cleared his throat.

Erik stared at him. "If I do what?" he asked threateningly. "What did you promise him, Nadir, that I would do?"

"Nothing." Nadir's voice was steady now, for he spoke the truth. "I promised nothing. I only said that I would tell you..." He hesitated again.

"What?" Erik was screaming with rage. "Spit it out, man!"

"Mister Lüders wants you to play the piano solo in the concerto," Nadir whispered. "I told him that it is impossible, that you would not do it, but he insists. He says the piano would be positioned in a way that the audience would see only your left profile, and the lights would be dimmed..."

Erik laughed. "And who is to believe that?" he asked angrily.

Nadir assured Erik that he believed Lüders to be trustworthy. After another hour of discussing the issue, Erik finally agreed to see Lüders the next day. "But if he cannot convince me that he does not mean any harm, I will leave Berlin and go into hiding," Erik announced.

Nadir nodded. "I know you have a good understanding of such things," he said. "If you think Lüders is not to be trusted, I will accept your better judgment and we will leave."

Xxxx

Two days later, Lüders came to see Erik. To Erik's surprise he liked the man, who talked to him as if he did not notice the leather mask covering the right side of his face, who never stared, and was quite knowledgeable in music.

Erik did not agree to play the concerto at that first meeting, and Lüders did not push him. They met again a few days later and the week afterwards, Lüders accompanied Erik and Nadir to the opera.

Two weeks later, Lüders explained to Erik once again, how he hoped to arrange things for rehearsals and the performance, so that Erik would be able to play, and this time, Erik grudgingly agreed.

Rehearsals started a few days later. Lüders' cousin Max Kantner conducted. The piano was situated behind the orchestra, and positioned in a way that even the musicians would only see the left side of Erik's face. Erik only ever joined the rehearsals once everybody else had taken their seats, so that not even the members of the orchestra noticed his facial problem. They were all deeply impressed by Erik's virtuosity, though, and very predisposed to liking the eccentric composer.

Two weeks later, the music-loving crowd of Berlin had its new idol. The brilliant piano concerto by Erik Dumesnil premiered to roaring applause and enthusiastic reviews. Most concert attendees could not decide what had impressed them most: the haunting quality of the melodies, especially the second movement in minor keys, or the absolute virtuosity and heartfelt expression with which Dumesnil himself had performed his new masterpiece. Everybody agreed, though, that Dumesnil surpassed any other pianists they had ever heard perform before, and that they hoped he would grace the concert hall more often.

Erik would have been quite incredulous, had he known that the ladies in the audience had found him quite attractive, nor would he have cared if he had known - and believed them. Even after almost three years, his heart ached for one woman and one alone. Christine Daaé would forever hold his heart.


	5. Family

Yes, our Erik has not forgotten his Christine, time and distance have no influence on his feelings for her. Now let's see what Christine's life has been like so far...

And no, I don't own anything or anybody, no changes in that regard since I last posted a chapter.

Chapter 5 – Family

"Maman, please..." Christine de Chagny looked up from the tiny jacket she had been knitting to see what her daughter wanted. Amélie, almost two years old, stood in front of her mother and held out her favorite picture book.

Christine smiled at the little girl. "You want me to look at the book with you, sweetheart?" she asked. Amélie nodded eagerly. The Vicomtesse sighed. She was eight months pregnant again and needed rest above all, but she also understood that Amélie needed her now. Amélie needed to know that the new baby was not going to intrude upon her rights to her parents' affection.

"Then come here with your book and sit down next to me," Christine put her knitting away and smiled at her daughter. Little Amélie was so much like herself, the way Christine had been as a child. She liked the same food, the same color of red, she enjoyed the same things Christine had liked when she had been her age. Amélie also looked very much like her mother, except for her hair. While the girl's curls were just as unruly as her mother's they were a different color, a beautiful golden honey-blond, very much like her father's.

Christine opened the book and pointed to the first page. "This is a meadow, like the one behind our mansion," she explained. "Only it is summer in that picture, and the wild flowers are in full bloom."

Amélie pointed at a tiny colorful spot in the picture. "Bootiful buttelfly," she commented. Christine smiled. Amélie was already talking quite well, but some of the longer words still presented certain problems for her. "Yes, that is a beautiful butterfly," she corrected her daughter. "And once it will be warm again, in a few weeks, we will be able to go out and look for butterflies. Last summer you were still too young to enjoy them, but this year, you will be able to watch them fly from flower to flower."

"Baby watch them too?" Amélie asked. Christine shook her head. "No, Amélie, the baby will still be too small to watch the butterflies. But once your little brother or sister grows big enough to understand, you will be able to tell them everything you know about butterflies and everything else. Won't that be great?"

Amélie nodded. "I am big sister," she proclaimed proudly.

"Yes, my darling," Christine confirmed, "you will be the baby's big sister."

Mother and daughter looked through the picture book and discussed every picture and all the details it showed. That way, Christine was trying to teach her daughter the correct pronounciation of the words for everything in their immediate environment, the meadows, the fields, the woods, and the sea. She was so glad that Raoul had taken her to the de Chagny home in Brittany almost immediately after their wedding. She had wanted to get away from Paris, from all the talk and gossip, to get away from the place that held memories that she wanted to forget. Raoul had been understanding as always and had taken her to Brittany, to the place where they had first met, when they still had been children.

At first they had planned to stay there only for a few months, till the Parisian society would have found something else to talk about and the scandal at the Opéra Populaire would have been forgotten, but Christine had soon become pregnant, and both, she and Raoul, had decided that there was no better place for their baby to be born and to grow up than the very village, where they had met and spent some of the happiest weeks of their childhood together. So they had stayed. Raoul, of course, had to go to Paris from time to time for business reasons, but Christine never once felt the desire to accompany him. She was happy at their home in Brittany, where, from her window, she could see the little hut, where she had lived with her father all those years ago, and where she could hear the gulls that were flying out over the sea, from which Raoul had once rescued her favorite red scarf.

Here in Britanny she felt close to her father, here she could pretend that she had never left and that all … that stuff... him... had only been a dream. Here she could live her fairytale romance with Raoul, the man she had been destined to marry since before time began.

Her life as Raoul's wife had indeed been like a fairytale. He had brought her here, had spoiled her rotten with gifts and loving caresses, had given her a beautiful daughter and soon they would have another child. Raoul was not only a wonderful husband, but also a loving father. He might have hoped for a son, but once Amélie had arrived and looked at her father with her mother's eyes, he had opened his heart wide and embraced his daughter with love. They were a happy family and soon another baby would join them. For Raoul's sake Christine hoped it would be a son, but she herself did not have any preferences. All that mattered to her was that the baby would be healthy.

"What are my two beautiful ladies up to today?" Raoul's voice interrupted Christine's thoughts.

"Papa, papa!" Amélie ran towards her father, her little arms raised, as if begging him to pick her up.

Raoul scooped her up into his arms and kissed her on the cheek. "My little princess," he murmured. "Were you and maman having fun, while I looked after the sick horse?"

Amélie nodded. "We look picker book," she explained, "pretty pickers, grass and flowers, buttelfly, cow, house, sea, sky, field, all see in book. When summer, go out and see."

Raoul laughed. His daughter's baby-talk delighted him to no end. "That does sound like a lot of fun," he agreed, "and you are right, once it gets warmer, you can go outside and play in the garden, and we will go to the sea together, and I will show you the place where I met your mother for the first time, when her scarf had fallen into the sea and I ran in to get it for her."

Amélie clapped her hands in excitement. "Papa get maman's scarf," she squeaked.

Christine smiled at her husband and daughter. Raoul and Amélie were very close, almost as close as she and her own father had been. "Yes, sweetheart," she told Amélie, "your father ran into the sea and brought back my scarf that the wind had blown into the water. It was a stormy, rainy day, and the water must have been quite cold, but he ran in anyway, just to make me happy again. I was only six and a half years old, but I knew then and there that I would marry him once I would be old enough."

Her eyes met Raoul's and they smiled at each other. They had fallen in love then right away, been childhood sweethearts, and now they were married. Raoul put Amélie down and laid a hand on Christine's bulging belly. "And how is our little Vicomte doing today?" he asked.

Christine winced, as the baby kicked her. "The little one is quite active today," she commented. "I think the baby is getting restless and wants out." She sighed. She wanted the baby to be born sooner rather than later. This second pregnancy was somehow harder on her than the first one had been. She tired easily and her back ached almost constantly.

"Just a few more weeks," Raoul tried to comfort her, "before our little Vicomte makes his appearance." He carefully lead her back to the sofa so that she could sit down.

Christine gave him an affectionate look, then asked, "what makes you so certain the baby is a boy?" she asked. "For all we know it could be another girl." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "would you be disappointed if we had another daughter?"

Raoul smiled at her. "If she is anything like our little princess, I won't mind another girl," he said, "and we can always try for a boy again later."

Christine smiled, though right now she was not exactly thrilled at the thought of getting pregnant again. "I say we wait till this baby is born, before we consider having another one," she cautioned.

Xxxx

Three weeks later, Christine woke in the middle of the night, when a searing pain tore through her abdomen. She screamed. Raoul was at her side at once. "The baby?" he asked. Christine nodded. "Try to relax, my love," he cooed at her, while he quickly got dressed. "I will send in Jeanette, she should stay with you, while I get the doctor." He smiled at Christine encouragingly. "I will be back shortly, and soon this will all be over and we will have our little heir."

Christine tried to smile back at him, although she did not feel too confident at the moment. She knew that it would probably take a few more hours for the baby to be born and she felt so weak and tired right now. She was not quite sure how she would get through those next few hours till the baby would finally make its appearance.

Raoul left, and a few minutes later the maid, Jeanette, entered Christine's room. "Try to relax, Madame," she said. "Conserve your strength. It is not time yet. The contractions are still too far apart."

Christine laid back and tried to concentrate on resting, when yet another contraction shook her body. Now that Raoul was gone, so was her courage. "This is too much," she cried. "I cannot hold on much longer!"

Jeanette's attempts to comfort her mistress were not very successful, Christine felt weaker and weaker with every contraction. When Raoul returned with the doctor half an hour later, the latter frowned, then sent Raoul out of the room. He had not seen the young Vicomtesse for quite a while, and he thought that she was way too frail for this. "Damn," he thought to himself, "she was barely more than a child when she had her daughter two years ago, she insisted on breast-feeding the little Vicomtesse, and once she had weaned her, she got pregnant again within a few months. That was definitely too much stress on such a young body. I hope we will get her through this, but if we do, she most definitely should not have another baby anytime soon."

And he set to work. He first injected Christine with a light painkiller, then began to examine her. He sighed in relief when he noticed that she was almost fully dilated. "Only a little bit longer," he said soothingly, "the baby is almost ready to be born."

His professional approach somewhat helped Christine, and when a few minutes later he told her to push, she did so. "I can see the head," the doctor informed Christine, "only a few more minutes and this will be over."

Christine smiled when the next contraction made her scream again. "Push," the doctor ordered, and once the pain decreased a bit, he announced, "the head is out. One more time..." He had barely finished when another wave of excruciating pain shot through Christine. She instinctively pushed and was barely aware of a release, when she passed out.

The doctor handed the screaming baby to Jeanette and told her to clean up the child, while he frantically worked on Christine. She needed a few stitches and a cordial. Once he was done, he checked her pulse and temperature. The young mother was much weaker than he would have liked, but he was confident that she would recover.

The doctor then went to find the young father. Raoul was pacing nervously in the living room. When the doctor entered, he looked up. "Is it a boy?" he was about to ask when the doctor's serious face stopped him in mid-sentence. "Christine!" he screamed. "Please tell me that she is … that all went well."

The doctor tried to sound confident. "Your wife should be fine," he said. "But she is extremely weak. She should not have had another baby so soon after the first one, especially since she has been breast-feeding Vicomtesse Amélie. Her body had to sustain two for the better part of the past three years and it has taken its toll on her."

Raoul looked guilty. He should have known that. He should have realized how weak she had been recently. He should have waited longer before getting her pregnant again.

"How is she?" he asked in a tiny voice. "Can I see her?"

The doctor sighed. "The Vicomtesse passed out from the pain when the baby was born," he said, "and has not regained consciousness yet. She will need lots of rest and healthy food. However," the doctor made sure Raoul understood how serious the situation was, "under no circumstances is she allowed to breast-feed the child. She is far too weak for that."

Raoul nodded, barely grasping what the doctor was saying. "The baby?" he finally asked. "Is he alright?"

The doctor looked at him then said, "it is a girl, and yes, she is strong and healthy." He then lead Raoul to the bedroom where the young mother was resting. Raoul groaned, when he saw his beloved wife lying there so pale, and almost lifeless. He fell into a chair next to the bed, and reached for Christine's thin, white hand. "Don't leave me," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "I need you. The girls need you."

When Jeanette held his new daughter out to him, he barely glanced at the child. The little Vicomtesse screamed at the top of her lungs as if she wanted to protest about her father's lack of interest in her and Raoul turned to Jeanette angrily. "Make her stop," he hissed, "or better, take her out."

Xxxx

Christine was completely exhausted and the doctor was concerned about her for a few days, but a careful diet and lots of rest slowly helped her regain her strength. Even so, almost an entire month passed before she could get out of bed for the first time. She felt so depleted that she was almost relieved when she was told she could not breast-feed her new daughter.

The baby was beautiful, though, a typical de Chagny, but with Christine's large chocolate eyes, and hair as dark as hers, though as straight as Raoul's. Once Christine was strong enough, the new Vicomtesse was christened Isabelle Geneviève Alphonsine.

Only then did Raoul tell his wife that they would have to wait for a long time before they could try for a son again. "You should not get pregnant again for at least the next two years," Raoul explained, "better three. You need to completely recover and regain your strength before we can think about another baby."

Christine looked at her husband in shock. "But Raoul, you need a son," she objected lamely.

He kissed her on the forehead. "And we will have one, just not right away," he told her. "We have two beautiful daughters that will keep us on our toes for now, our boy can wait."

Christine nodded, yet she had a strange feeling, as if her fairytale world was about to fall apart. "It was like a dream," she thought to herself. "Too perfect. Unreal. Nobody has a life like that. It's as if Raoul and I had still been children until now, as if we had suddenly grown up and realized that we have to face the real world."

Christine began to feel restless, she spent many hours walking along the beach, thinking back to the time when she had been here as a child, with her father. She wanted to recapture that perfect, fairytale feeling, of the past three years, but somehow she did not succeed. She was happy in the midst of her little family, played with Amélie, took care of Isabelle as much as her only slowly returning strength allowed, and smiled at Raoul's tender caresses. She had her own bedroom now. Raoul had insisted on it. "To make sure you won't get pregnant again too soon," he said. "We cannot risk that." And he had smiled at her lovingly.

It was not Raoul's love-making, though, that she missed. There was something else, she just was not sure what it was. But something was definitely amiss. "It's as if something important were missing from my life," she thought, "I cannot quite figure out what it is, but I feel so empty without it. I have indeed been living a dream, unaware of that emptiness within, and I had to almost die to realize that something was not right."

When she was with her children and her husband, she almost could believe that everything was fine again, or at least would be, with time, but when she was lying alone in her bed at night, the sensation of being empty, hollow, incomplete returned.

A few months had passed since Isabelle's birth when the doctor finally advised Raoul to take his wife to a different place. "The Vicomtesse would need a change of scenery," he explained. "It seems that here everything reminds her of the fact that she very nearly died when giving birth to her younger daughter. Maybe a completely different environment would do her some good, a city with lots of distractions might be beneficial."

Raoul groaned. He did not want to take Christine back to Paris. "The capital is out of the question," he told the doctor. "Terrible memories are haunting us there as well."

The doctor nodded. Three years ago, rumors of the burning opera house had reached even their little village. "How about a foreign capital then?" he suggested. "You do have connections in the diplomatic service, do you not?" Raoul nodded, and the doctor continued, "then why do you not call in a few favors and make sure you are assigned to one of France's many diplomatic missions abroad?"

Raoul smiled. He suddenly knew what to do. Three weeks later he informed Christine that he had been nominated the new Defense Attaché at the French Embassy in Berlin.


	6. Berlin

Soo... you are anxiously waiting for certain people to meet again? Soon, I promise. In the meantime many thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting. This story is already rather successful and C & E have not even met again!

For your information: I am back to work tomorrow, so no update of either story then, but I am still hoping to update "Love That You'll Regret" on Saturday, as usual.

And I still don't own anything or anybody!

Chapter 6 – Berlin

When Christine first heard about Raoul's new posting to the Embassy in Berlin, she was not quite sure, how to react. She was scared at the thought of moving her whole household, of going to a town, where she knew nobody and would be unable to speak the language, of having her children grow up away from their home country.

"Is this.. I mean, do you really have to go?" she asked Raoul cautiously.

Raoul was prepared for her lack of enthusiasm, for the doctor had warned him that his wife might not be too excited about a change of scenery at first. "The Vicomtesse is still very lethargic, she has not fully recovered her strength yet," the doctor had said. "She will be wary of the disruption that this move to another city will cause to her life, yet it is important for her to make that move, to get away from this place where she almost died, to meet new people and see new things. If she is reluctant to go, find a good reason for her that she will be able to accept," had been the doctor's final advice.

Raoul had therefore come up with an argument that he knew Christine would not be able to dispute. "Well," he said slowly, "as you know, I am an active Navy Officer, and have been granted prolonged leave of absence due to my marriage. But I was told now that I had to resume my duties, and I could choose between a posting aboard a ship bound for the Antarctic, in which case I would not have been able to see you or the children for over a year, or this position in Berlin, where I can take you all with me." He smiled at Christine. "I assumed you would prefer the second option, so I accepted the position in Berlin. Or would you have rather seen me leave for the Antarctic, the country of perennial winter?"

Christine forced a weak smile on her face. "I guess we have to go then," she said resignedly. "But I fear it will be very confusing for the children. Amélie has barely learned to speak her own language, now she will be surrounded by people speaking German, and Isabelle has not even started to speak yet. How will they react to the fact that the words we use are not understood everywhere?"

Raoul laughed. "Oh Christine, if I remember correctly, you had no problems keeping French and Swedish apart, when you were a child. You always found the right words when talking to me, even though your father often spoke to you in Swedish. Why should our daughters be any different? They will deal just fine, just like you did when you were little."

Christine knew she had lost the argument and that there was nothing else she could do to avoid this huge change in her life. She therefore tried to get used to the fact that their little family would be moving to this foreign city within a few weeks. Christine began reading books about Berlin, learning as much as possible about the city, she even got herself a German dictionary, she decided together with Raoul what to pack, which servants to take with them, and began to organize many more details for their imminent journey to Prussia.

Raoul noticed to his immense relief, that the doctor had been right. Far from being overly taxing for his still somewhat convalescent wife, the preparations for their move to Berlin seemed to have an invigorating effect on her.

Another month passed till everything was taken care of and the de Chagny-family finally left France for Berlin in early November. Christine was almost as excited as Amélie about traveling by train. Raoul had made sure that they had a whole sleeper compartment to themselves, so that his wife and daughters would have all the comfort they needed. They therefore enjoyed the journey, and Christine and Amélie seemed almost disappointed when it was over and they arrived at their destination.

In Berlin, the family was met at the station by a small delegation from the embassy who welcomed their new Defense Attaché to Berlin and organized several carriages for the family, their accompanying servants and their luggage. To Christine's joy, they did not have to live within the large, rather intimidating-looking embassy building, but Raoul had rented a small villa for them at the outskirts of Berlin, in the Wannsee-district, which was about to become the most popular living area for the elegant society of the Prussian capital.

Amélie squeaked with delight, when she saw the large garden of their new home, and Christine was equally happy with the villa Raoul had chosen for them. They would be able to feel at home here. They might even be able to recapture their dream...

Xxxx

The first few weeks in Berlin passed quickly. Christine was busy getting her new home organized, unpacking everything, making lists of what else was needed, hiring additional servants, and exploring the garden and the immediate surroundings together with her daughters and the nurse.

In early December, the embassy was hosting a huge ball. Raoul, who had already earned the ambassador's respect with his hard work, was told that he and his wife were expected to attend. "It will be an excellent occasion for you and Mme. de Chagny to make some acquaintances here," the ambassador told him. "This ball is always well attended by the crème de la crème of Berlin's society. Anybody with any influence of any kind will be there, and of course you will also meet members of the other diplomatic missions."

Christine was not too happy with the idea of attending the ball. She had not been to any huge festivity since her wedding more than three and a half years ago, and even before then, she only ever had been to the Opéra Populaire's annual New Year's Eve Masquerade, which was very different from the elegant events that were popular among the French nobility. She had a feeling as if she might be incredibly out of place at such a ball. Not only did she not speak the language and would therefore not be able to talk to anyone, she was not even sure if she knew enough of the proper etiquette to fit in.

Raoul laughed at her concerns. "I do not speak German either," he told her. "But everybody here speaks French anyway. French is the language of diplomacy and the preferred language of the European nobility. You will be perfectly able to talk with the other ladies – assuming that you will have time to talk," he added, "for I have a feeling that my beautiful wife will be dragged to the dance floor by every man in attendance."

Christine looked scared again. She did not want to dance with strangers. She wanted to dance with her husband.

"I would like nothing better than to dance with you all night," Raoul tried to make her more comfortable. "But unfortunately, that would be considered rude. I will have to dance with a large number of ladies, and of course, other men will ask you for a dance."

Christine sighed. She knew already that she did not like society-life, but she also understood that she would have to play along and follow the rules.

Xxxx

Raoul bought Christine a wonderful new ball-gown for that event, of deep midnight-blue silk, which made her chocolate brown eyes stand out like two burning stars. For the ball, she was wearing a sparkling sapphire necklace with matching tiara, both items part of the de Chagny family jewelry.

Christine knew that she looked beautiful, when she entered the ballroom on Raoul's arm, but she was also very nervous. This was her first big event in the foreign country, her first big event period, and she did not want to have people laugh about her behind her back. "I do not want to ruin this for Raoul," she thought. "I need to be careful not to make any mistakes, to be accepted here. His career might be at stake." She remembered what Raoul had told her about the alternative to accepting the diplomatic post. "If Raoul has to serve aboard a boat again and be gone from us for months, even years..." she thought with a shudder. "I need to make sure that he can remain in the diplomatic service..."

At first everything went smoothly. Raoul introduced her to the ambassador and some of his colleagues, and after Raoul had danced the first waltz with her, the ambassador asked her for the next one, then she danced with another member of his staff.

"Darf ich um den nächsten Tanz bitten?" (May I ask for the next dance?) Christine stared at the young German nobleman, who had politely asked her that question. She nervously played with her fan, then took a deep breath, summoned all her courage and said, "Je suis désolée, mais je ne parle pas allemand. Pas encore." (I am sorry, but I do not speak German, not yet.)

To her relief the young man continued in perfect French. "I am sorry, Madame, I did not want to make you feel uncomfortable by speaking a language you are not familiar with, I was only asking you for the next dance. Please say that you will accept to show me that my faux-pas is forgiven?"

Christine smiled and danced with the young German, then with another and another. She was beginning to enjoy herself. She learned a lot about Berlin, for as soon as she mentioned to her dance partners that she and her husband had arrived in Berlin only a few weeks ago, they were all eager to recommend places she should go to, things she should do in their city.

Xxxx

"Albrecht, you bear," a pretty young blonde, not much older than Christine, suddenly addressed the man Christine had just finished a dance with and who was about to lead her to the side of the dance floor where some of his friends were waiting, hoping for him to introduce them to the beauty on his arm. "You are not planning to lead Madame back to other potential dancers, she needs some rest and refreshments. You should lead us to the buffet and get us something to eat and some champagne." She turned towards Christine. "Forgive my manners, my dear," she said, "you have of course no idea who we are. I am Gertraud von Reifenstein and this is my husband Albrecht."

Christine smiled. She liked Gertraud von Reifenstein's direct way of speaking. "Christine de Chagny," she introduced herself. "My husband is the new French Defense Attaché here in Berlin."

Gertraud returned the smile. "I knew I had not seen you here before, so you must be new to Berlin," she commented. "This must be overwhelming for you, so many people here and you probably know just a handful of them."

Christine nodded. "Yes, I have only been introduced to the ambassador and some of his staff members so far, and their ladies, of course, but other than that, I do not know anybody here."

"Then you are in desperate need of making new friends," Gertraud remarked. She ordered her husband to bring them each a plate with assorted delicacies and a glass of champagne, then she lead Christine to one of the small tables. "Let's sit down and rest our legs for a while," she suggested, "and let's also get to know each other a bit, while we are waiting for Albrecht to get our food."

The two ladies chatted about this and that, and it turned out that they found each other quite likeable. Gertraud was surprised to learn that Christine already had two daughters. "You are about my age," she said. "I am twenty-two, and even though I got married three years ago, I do not have any children yet. Imagine, having a daughter at such a young age, one might have to act as ball mother when one is barely above thirty! How come you already have two?"

Christine laughed. She was happily married, but she could not quite imagine what she would be doing with her time without the children. "I love my daughters," she said, "and I am happy to have them. I never thought about the problem you just mentioned, but I guess I will have to cross that bridge when I reach it, although, back home, my girls won't have that many opportunities to attend balls, since we live in the countryside, in Brittany, by the sea. It is lovely there..." And Christine talked about the beauty of their little village back home, where she and Raoul had spent the first three and a half years of their marriage.

Gertraud shook her head. "That sounds like the perfect place for a vacation," she smirked. "Where you can go in the summer when it is too hot in town and pretty much everybody is away, but in winter, when the "season" is in full swing, and there are balls and dinners and receptions and afternoon teas almost every day, and the theaters are putting up new productions and special performances, and there are concerts.."

Gertraud stopped in mid-sentence, as if overcome by a sudden idea. "Do you like music?" she asked Christine.

Christine's eyes brightened. Music! When had been the last time she had listened to any music? Other than the dance melodies tonight? Oh, how she loved music! She was suddenly very much aware of how much she had missed it and she began to wonder if maybe music had been the element that had been missing from her life? She pondered that question for a few moments, unable to come up with an answer. Then she smiled at Gertraud and nodded eagerly. "Yes," she said, "I do like music very much, my dear papa..." Christine looked away to fight back tears that were about to form in the back of her eyes at the memory of her long-dead father. "My father used to play the violin," she explained, once she had regained her composure.

Gertraud was impressed. "So you come from a musical family," she exclaimed. "I bet you have some musical talent as well. Do you play an instrument yourself?"

Christine shook her head. "I used to sing," she said hesitantly.

"You sing!" Gertraud exclaimed in delight. "How wonderful! I hope I will get a chance to hear you sing soon!"

Christine declined politely. "I am afraid it's been a long time, and I am probably horribly out of practice. You see, when I got married and had my children..."

Gertraud laughed. "Didn't I tell you you should have waited with children?" she joked. "Of course pregnancy will have certain effects on you, and I bet it takes a while to get your muscles and everything back in shape. But you could start singing again now. I bet a few lessons with a good teacher would be all that's needed to get you up to speed again."

For a brief moment Christine thought of – him - , the only voice coach she had ever worked with. Then she shook her head. She could not imagine taking lessons with anybody else. He had known and understood her voice, nurtured it over the years. And she was also not sure how Raoul would react if she told him she would like to take up singing again. "I am not sure I am ready for singing just yet," she said lightly.

"Anyway," Gertraud continued, "it is something you should think about. I do host regular afternoon teas and sometimes soirées with musical entertainment where myself and some of my friends perform, and I would love to have you sing at one of these sooner or later. I am sure you would be an asset to these events. But there is something else I wanted to ask you," Gertraud continued. "Can you keep a secret?"

Christine stared at her. "A secret?" she asked curiously, "what kind of a secret, and why do you ask?"

"I am dead serious," Gertraud replied. "I want to discuss something else with you, but you must promise first, that you won't tell anybody, and I mean anybody. You should not even tell your husband."

"I cannot promise that without knowing the nature of your secret," Christine said honestly. "What if you are telling me about a political secret that is vital for Raoul to know about, or something else that would require somebody's intervention of some sort..."

Gertraud laughed. "Of course it is nothing like that, but if it were widely known, my next afternoon tea would be overrun, and I promised I would have ten, twelve people there at a maximum. And our men are all making fun of us ladies already, because we are so taken with ..." She looked at Christine. "I swear to you that it is nothing dishonorable to keep this particular secret, but I would really, really love to have you there. You would be the twelfth lady, and you being French and all that, it would be perfect. So, do you promise?"

Christine hesitated again. "Why do I have the feeling as if you were trying to persuade me to do something that is a bit risqué?" she asked.

Gertraud laughed. "Unless you are totally different from all the other women I know, the only thing at risk will be your heart," she whispered, "so, please, say that you will keep the secret!"

Christine was getting curious, and she knew that her heart was not at risk, for she was happily married. She knew that she would be faithful to Raoul, no matter what. "I promise," she said with shaking voice.

"I am so glad!" Gertraud exclaimed. "I herewith officially invite you to my afternoon tea the day after tomorrow." She gave Christine the address. "We start at four o'clock, be there on time, for I expect a very special guest. He does not make many social calls, this may only be his second one after the phenomenal success he had with his piano concerto last spring. He also performed two of Mozart's piano concerts at the concert hall in September, and he is the most romantic man you have ever met. I swear to you, you will be totally impressed with him. All our men think we are crazy for swooning over him like that, which is why we do not tell them we are going to meet him. He has only agreed to play the piano for my small group, because my mother went to the same finishing school as Mrs. Lüders, the wife of his publisher. In a word, you are getting a chance to meet Erik Dumesnil."


	7. Encounter

So, you are curious how the meeting between E & C will be going? You will find out soon... ;-)

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting, favoriting. Your support means the world to me.

And just as a brief reminder, no, I do not own anything or anybody.

Chapter 7 – Encounter

"We'll talk about it later," Gertraud murmured, as she saw her husband approaching, followed by a waiter who delivered the three plates and drinks that Albrecht had ordered at the buffet to their table.

"I hope that the food I chose will suit your taste, Madame de Chagny," Albrecht said politely. Christine looked at the plate laden with French and German delicacies and smiled. "Thank you very much, Monsieur von Reifenstein," she thanked him, "if anything, there is too much food that I really like."

Gertraud was happy with the selection her husband her brought her, as well, and soon they were all enjoying the excellent food.

"There you are, my dear, I have been looking for you!" Raoul suddenly appeared next to their table. Christine smiled at him. "Raoul, these are Albrecht and Gertraud von Reifenstein. They have been so kind as to take me under their wings. My husband Raoul," she made the introductions.

Gertraud thought by herself that the dashing young man in the colorful dress uniform of the French Navy was not at all what she had expected Christine's husband to be like. She had imagined him to be a boring, elderly nobleman with a preference for hunting, when Christine had described their home in Brittany. "I wonder why he kept her locked away in such a dull place," she thought to herself.

Aloud she said, "Oh Monsieur, it is a pleasure meeting you. Your wife and I are already getting to know each other a bit. In fact, I have invited her to my afternoon tea, at four o'clock the day after tomorrow. I hope you will have no objections. I will of course send a servant over with the official invitation card..."

Albrecht smiled. "Slow down, Gertraud," he admonished his wife, and to Raoul he said apologetically, "you must forgive my wife. Gertraud loves talking. I hope that that will not influence your decision on whether or not you will allow Madame to socialize with my Gertraud. I can assure you that she only receives ladies of irreproachable reputation. In fact, I know of several that she refuses to invite to her events."

Raoul smiled. He could understand why Christine would feel comfortable in the company of this friendly couple and he was glad that Christine had already made friends. He therefore assured Albrecht and Gertraud that he would have absolutely no objections to Christine attending the latter's afternoon tea. "We are new here," he explained, "and have yet to make friends in this city. I will therefore be very grateful to you if you introduced Christine to your other friends."

Xxxx

As promised, Gertraud's footman delivered the formal, written invitation to the de Chagny household the next day, and Christine sent word back through him that she would attend. The invitation card only alluded to an "afternoon tea with friends", there was no word of the mysterious special guest that Gertraud had mentioned.

Christine wondered who he was. They had been interrupted, first by Albrecht, then by Raoul, and she had therefore not been able to ask Gertraud about this supposedly oh so romantic character. What had Gertraud said his name was? Erik – something? Duchamp maybe, or Dupont? Christine shook her head. No, that did not sound right, though she was fairly certain that the last name started with Du-. He must be a musician of some kind, a pianist most likely, for Gertraud had said something about him having played piano concertos at the concert hall. He seemed to be something like an up and coming star, which probably meant that he was fairly young. For a moment Christine considered the possibility that this Erik Du-whatever might be a child prodigy, but quickly dismissed it. No, the ladies would not get so excited about a boy, and even if they did, their husbands would not be as annoyed as they seemed to be about the ladies' infatuation with this musician.

"He is probably fairly young," Christine thought, "early to mid-twenties, and super-attractive, like huge, dark eyes, dark hair, probably the southern, Mediterranean type. Maybe with Spanish or Italian blood, for Gertraud finds him romantic." She smiled a little at the thought of her new friend's enthusiasm for this pianist and told herself not to expect too much from this "romantic" musician. "Gertraud is easily impressed," she told herself. "I did notice that she found Raoul attractive in his uniform."

Xxxxx

Erik was fretting nervously. He did not understand how he could ever have agreed to attend this ladies' event. "Johann, I cannot do this," he pleaded with his publisher and friend Mr. Lüders. "What if someone notices my..." he pointed at the right side of his face.

Johann Lüders smiled. "Don't be silly, Erik," he tried to calm his nervous star composer and pianist. "You have perfected your mask over the summer, the leather is so thin now and matches your skin tone so accurately that nobody will notice that it's not your natural skin. The seem is almost unnoticeable, too, especially in dim, artificial light. One definitely has to know about the mask and to watch out for the seem in order to spot it. I would understand your concern if you were to meet these ladies in a garden in the early afternoon on a sunny summer day. The bright light might be a problem, but I assure you, I know the residence of the von Reifensteins, the lights there will be no threat to your secret."

Dora Lüders chimed in, supporting her husband. "Really, Erik, you need to start meeting people. Everybody is already complaining that Johann and I seem to isolate you from your audience. We won't be able to keep journalists at bay much longer, and we do think that it is easier for you to interact with your audience first. I assure you that you have nothing to fear from the Reifensteins. I've known Gertraud since before she was born. Her mother Regine is my dearest friend from school. You met her at my little get-together a few weeks ago. Regine promised to help me slowly introduce you to Berlin society, and her daughter's afternoon teas are an excellent way to meet a few new people in a controlled environment. There will only be eleven or twelve ladies, including me and Regine, and Johann is coming with us as well. We will be with you and ready to rescue you, should the need arise."

"They are right," Nadir remarked. "Why don't you just relax, Erik and enjoy the event. You go there, greet the hostess, wait for her to announce you, then you play a few pieces on the piano, maybe have a cup of tea, before you excuse yourself and leave."

Erik gave Nadir a look as if he would have liked to strangle his friend. "You are not the one on display there," he complained.

Nadir chuckled. "And here I thought you might enjoy being admired by the female half of Berlin's population. For years I had to endure your complaints that no woman would ever give you a second look, and now that they do, you are getting cold feet."

"That's different," Erik pouted, and he meant it. When he had complained about his lack of luck with the fair sex, he had always been thinking about Christine and his inability to win her heart. What did he care about all these ladies that for some strange reason found him romantic? Even if every single woman in town were worshiping at his feet, he would not care. Only one woman counted, and she was not likely to ever look his way again.

"Come on now, Erik," Johann Lüders reminded his friend. "We promised we would be there before four thirty. We'd better hurry."

Resignedly Erik put on his coat and hat and followed the Lüders-couple to their carriage.

Xxxx

Christine arrived shortly after four o'clock at Gertraud von Reifenstein's home. Gertraud welcomed her excitedly and introduced her to the other ladies. Other than Christine and Gertraud's mother Regine von Bledow, there were eight more ladies between twenty and forty years of age. They all welcomed Christine warmly and expressed the hope that they would meet her more regularly in the near future.

"Are you as excited as I am?" Else von Rachwitz, a rather pale young woman with ash-blond hair asked dreamily. "Dumesnil writes the most touching music you can imagine. His piano pieces are remarkable, but his songs!" she gushed. "I have not heard anything like that before. So deep, so sensitive, so full of love and passion! She must be such a lucky woman!"

"Who?" Christine asked rather absentmindedly. She had not paid too much attention to Else, concentrating on remembering the names of all the ladies present. The lady next to Regine was Thea, the one talking to Gertraud right now was Hertha, and the two in the corner were Beate and Susanna. Now what was the name of the one in the beige dress?

Else was shocked. "Her of course," she told Christine. "The one to whom he has dedicated this magnificent songbook. He must love her so much if he writes songs like that! I wish I knew who she is!"

"I don't think she realizes how lucky she is," Ellen Riedemann, the daughter of a rich banker, chimed in. "Isn't it universally accepted that his love is unrequited, which is why most of his songs have this melancholy undertone? And it seems as if he himself had somehow driven her away, since the songbook is called "Forgive Me". He certainly must think that there is something she needs to forgive him for."

Christine smiled. She did not quite get it what was so interesting about this musician's love life. Wasn't that his private affair? Who knew if there even was a woman in his life? She remembered having heard once that poets sometimes wrote hymns to their ideal of a woman, not some really existing lover. Maybe composers did that too? She began to realize, though, that this supposedly unrequited love of the young musician was the main reason for his appeal to these women.

"That poor man," she thought by herself. "They expect him to be some tragic hero, and he is just a mere mortal like the rest of us. It must be hard for him to deal with their adoration."

Gertraud suddenly shushed the conversation. "Now sit down quietly and behave," she told her guests. "We do not want to scare Dumesnil off, or do we? They should be here any minute now. Dora Lüders and her husband will be with Dumesnil and sort of introduce him to us."

She had barely finished when the door opened and a servant showed in three more guests. Like everybody else, Christine expectantly looked towards the entrance and almost gasped. She felt the room spinning around her. She could not believe her eyes, and yet... the similarity... That tall man, who had just entered together with a couple, he looked... he reminded her... except for his face. She shook her head. No, it could not be – him, for he – her angel – had had a disfigured face that he had to hide behind a mask, whereas this man...

"Thank you for the opportunity to perform in front of your distinguished guests," the stranger, presumably Dumesnil, was now saying. Christine's eyes widened in shock, for there was no mistaking that voice. She would have recognized it everywhere. For almost ten years she had only had this voice to comfort her, the voice that she had thought to be that of a superhuman being. But how... why... what was he doing here? And what had happened to his face? Why did it suddenly look so normal, almost handsome?

"Please, Monsieur Dumesnil, let me introduce you to my friends," Gertraud now said, gently laying her hand on Erik's arm to steer him towards the other ladies, who were looking at him with awe.

Christine winced. How could Gertraud touch him like that, as if they were friends? Or – were they friends? How well did they know each other? Did he like Gertraud? Was she his pupil now? Christine felt all these questions hit her like daggers, torturing her. Why did it hurt so much to think that he might have other friends now, other students? He had been hers once, hers alone, and now...

"And this is my new friend, Christine de Chagny," she heard Gertraud's voice introducing her. "She only arrived in Berlin a few weeks ago, her husband is the new Defense Attaché at the French embassy."

Christine dared look up and meet her angel's – Erik Dumesnil's – eyes, but he did not seem to see her. It was as if he were looking through her, at a point behind her back. Christine shivered. Why did it hurt so much that he ignored her like that? Or... was it possible that she was mistaken after all? She looked closer at his face, almost staring at him rudely, and this time she saw it. There was a fine line, more or less invisible to the naked eye unless one was looking for it, a line that defined the outline of his mask. A mask that had obviously been refined and barely showed anymore, but there was no doubt in her heart now that that man, the mysterious, romantic Erik Dumesnil, the one all the other ladies were crazy about, was her angel.

Xxxx

The moment he entered the music room at the Reifenstein residence, Erik needed all his courage not to turn on his heels and run. He had sensed her presence immediately, and one cursory glance around the room and the ladies present had revealed her to him. God, how beautiful she was! Even more so, than he remembered. When he had last seen her she had been a girl on the verge of becoming a woman, now she had matured somewhat. She was still slender, though her breasts had filled out a bit. Her eyes were still the most amazing deep ponds of pure chocolate, and her curls, pinned up in an elaborate chignon, looked as soft and silken as always.

A sudden fear overcame Erik, when he finally forced himself to stop drinking in her sight and he started to think. What was Christine doing here? Why was she in Berlin? And what about that – boy, her husband. Was he here as well? Would she recognize him? Probably. Even though he looked somewhat different due to his new mask, he was certain that his voice would give him away, probably had already done so. How would she react? Would she tell the others who he was? Would they believe her if she did? And, most importantly, would she tell her husband that she had met him here in Berlin?

"If she says something, I will pretend not to know her, I will try to convince the others that I have no clue what she is talking about," he thought to himself. "And I hope that Johann and Dora will back me up, but I will most definitely have to leave Berlin at once. I cannot risk another confrontation with de Chagny."

Erik absentmindedly listened to Gertraud introducing her various guests to him. He was vaguely aware that Christine would be next. "I cannot allow her to realize how much I still love her," he thought to himself. "If she knew how much power she still holds over me, she could use that against me and destroy me completely." He managed to nod politely, when Gertraud introduced Christine, but he did not look at her.

After having introduced him to all her guests, Gertraud lead Erik to the grand piano. "Monsieur Dumesnil has kindly agreed to perform for us today," she announced with a coquettish smile at Erik that sent another dagger through Christine's heart.

Erik nodded, then began to play. He was improvising, all the conflicting emotions he was currently experiencing trying to find release in music. For the moment, he forgot where he was and what kind of consequences Christine's presence here could possibly have for him. He existed only for his music and through his music.

Christine sat like in trance, listening to her angel's improvisations. She knew him so well, she understood so many of the emotions that his long, slender fingers coaxed from the instrument. "He is furious at something," she thought, "and wary of something, and there is a longing underlying the whole music, and... fury again."

She suddenly gasped. In her surprise of having found her angel again in this most unlikely place, she had completely forgotten about Raoul. "If Raoul finds out that he is here, he'll have him killed," she thought. "I cannot let that happen. I must make sure Raoul never learns the truth about … what is he calling himself now? Erik Dumesnil?" And she wondered briefly if that was her angel's true name or a pen name he had adopted. "I never even bothered to ask him about his name," she thought guiltily.

Then it occurred to her that not telling Raoul about her angel's presence in Berlin was not enough. She also needed to let her angel know that she would not betray him. Not again. For whatever crimes he might have committed, he had also suffered a lot. He had had his punishment when she had left him with Raoul. And... she had not wanted him harmed in the first place. She remembered only too clearly how reluctant she had been to carry out Raoul's plan to capture the Opera Ghost.

"I must talk to him," Christine thought. "I need to tell him that he has nothing to fear from me."

Erik finished his performance and roaring applause broke lose. All the ladies stood and surrounded Erik to congratulate him on his masterful command of the piano and on the incredibly stirring music he had performed for them. They were all gushing about Erik's music, each trying to get close to him and be noticed by their idol. Christine was standing a bit to the side, finding it undignified to fight like that for the attention of the man, whose full and undivided attention she had possessed at one time.

"Ladies, ladies," Johann Lüders tried to make his way through the group of women to free Erik from their clutches. "What would your husbands say if they saw you right now? Wouldn't they get a bit jealous?"

Else von Rachwitz giggled. "They do not even know we are meeting Monsieur Dumesnil today," she said, "Gertraud made us swear not to tell anybody, not even them."

Christine realized that that was her chance to convey her message to Erik. "I certainly have not told mine," she said pointedly, "and I see no reason to do so now."

Erik looked at her, for the briefest of moments the two pairs of eyes met and Christine blushed under the fire that she saw burning in her angel's eyes.


	8. Reaction

Hi everybody, I am sorry for the delay. I had this chapter almost finished by Sunday night and wa planning on posting it on Tuesday at the latest, but then my guinea pig passed away Monday night... and the story had to wait. But the chapter is ready now. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting this and my previous stories. Your support is really inspiring!

I still don't own anything or anybody - except Gertraud and some others, that is. And yes, Gertraud is back and will be back in upcoming chapters as will be the Girys.

Chapter 8 – Reaction

Johann and Dora Lüders finally managed to pry Erik away from the gushing ladies. The three thanked Gertraud for the invitation and assured her that they had enjoyed her little event. Gertraud said it had been an honor to meet the famous musician in such a private setting and how much she and her guests had relished his music. Then she looked at Erik hopefully and asked if maybe they might be graced with his presence again soon?

Erik did not commit to another similar event, but he did not downright tell her it was impossible either. He was not sure what to do. Of course it would be best to stay put as much as possible as long as the de Chagnys would be in Berlin. He certainly would not be able to perform in public during their stay in his new hometown, because he could not risk the Vicomte attending the concert and recognizing him. True, Christine had promised not to tell her husband, but that did not mean that the latter could not find out all by himself that his former rival had relocated to Berlin.

Christine! Her presence at the afternoon event had taken him by surprise. He had not been prepared at all to see her again, and he still was not sure what to expect from her. He had no doubts that she had recognized him and he knew that her comment about not telling her husband had been meant as a message for him, but he was in the dark about her motive for not telling de Chagny.

"I need to talk to her," Erik thought by himself. "I need to find out if I can trust her, and why she is willing to keep my presence in Berlin a secret." He was not even remotely considering the possibility that maybe talking to Christine was not all that important after all, since she had practically promised him already not to tell on him, but that he _wanted_ to talk to her, to see her again.

Xxxx

Once Erik had left with the Lüders-couple, Gertraud's female friends resumed their conversation. The main topic was of course the musician that they had just met and that all of them had found even more interesting in reality than they had imagined him to be.

"He was so distant at first," Thea Völker enthused, "but when he sat down in front of the piano and started playing – oh my God! So many emotions, such a deep, soulful character!"

Hertha von Gletthoff on the other hand remarked that Dumesnil was certainly much taller than she had thought. "And he seems fit and trim," she gushed. "I bet he works out regularly."

Christine smiled. She knew what had helped her Angel develop his muscles. Running up and down all those hundreds of stairs from his lair to the Opéra Populaire several times a day, rowing that boat across the subterranean lake repeatedly every day, climbing around in the rafters and similar activities certainly would lead to a more athletic appearance.

"You liked him, too, didn't you?" Gertraud's voice interrupted Christine's thoughts. "I have not promised too much, it seems. The way you blushed, when he looked at you after you said you had not told your husband,..." Gertraud teased.

"This Monsieur – Dumesnil - is certainly an interesting gentleman," Christine said non-committally. "He is an excellent musician, though. The way he played the piano was brilliant."

Gertraud smiled. "You can't fool me," she said. "You are as smitten as we are. But don't worry, I won't tell your husband – as long as you don't tell Albrecht. It's not as if either of us would betray their husbands with Dumesnil anyway, even if he did notice us, which he doesn't. Thea is right, he almost seemed distant." Gertraud sighed. "I bet he was thinking of her... the woman to whom he has dedicated his songs."

Christine sat bolt upright. The songs! It had been mentioned several times that her Angel – Dumesnil – had written wonderfully deep, emotional love songs that all the other ladies considered to be the most romantic songs ever and therefore envied the woman who was loved so much that she had inspired these songs. Was it possible? What if she herself...? Did she dare hope...?

"I do not know these songs," Christine finally confessed. "I have never heard them performed or seen the music. Are they really that exceptional?"

Gertraud slapped herself on the forehead. "How stupid of me! Of course you would be interested in his songs, considering that you used to sing yourself," she exclaimed, then ran to a shelf and rummaged through some books. Once she had found what she had been looking for, she returned to Christine and shoved a thick songbook in her friend's hands. "Here," she said. "Have a look. Are those not the most wonderful songs you have ever heard? Does this music not make you want to sing again?"

Christine looked at the cover. "Forgive Me", she read, "Songs by Erik Dumesnil." Then she opened the book and stared at the dedication on the front page. "To the one who holds my heart," she whispered.

"Yes," Gertraud confirmed. "Is that not the most romantic dedication you can imagine? He does not want to reveal her name, does not want to compromise her, and yet, he tells her exactly how he feels about her with these few simple words."

Christine nodded and turned yet another page. She scanned song after song, reading the lyrics and humming the melody here and there. She was almost certain now that all those heartfelt love songs were dedicated to her.

"You really have never heard these songs before, you can sight-read them like that?" Gertraud was in awe when Christine once again hummed a rather difficult passage.

Christine took her mind off her Angel's songs for a moment and smiled at Gertraud. "I told you I used to sing when I was younger," she said. "I learned such things during my singing lessons."

"You must have had a great teacher," Gertraud stated, a bit envious. She liked singing, but was not very talented. She had tried taking lessons repeatedly, but to no avail. None of her teachers had ever taught her to sight-read music, though.

Christine's eyes took on a dreamy expression as she remembered the times when her Angel had taught her to sing – when she had still believed him to be an Angel. "Yes, he was – is – a great teacher," she acknowledged softly.

Gertraud glanced at Christine out of the corner of her eyes, but did not say anything. She had a feeling that Christine was not telling her the whole truth, that there was more...

Xxxx

The moment Erik stepped into their living room, Nadir knew that something was troubling his friend. "So how was your afternoon with the ladies? Were they as terrible as you feared?" he tried to start a light conversation.

Erik fell into a chair. "Christine," he whispered. "She is in Berlin."

"For Allah's sake!" Nadir exclaimed. "I hope she was not..."

Erik's eyes shone with love, when he nodded. "Yes," he said dreamily. "I saw her. My Christine... "

"Erik, how can you be so calm about this!" The unexpected news made Nadir nervous. "We have to pack, we cannot stay here. She will tell everybody..."

"She won't." Erik's voice oozed conviction. "She told me. She will not even tell her … that boy." He had realized at the last moment that he was still not used to the thought of Christine having a husband and thus changed his sentence to avoid that offensive term.

"She told you?" Nadir's eyes widened in surprise. "She did not run screaming when she saw you?"

Erik gave Nadir a very condescending look. "Of course not, Daroga," he said arrogantly, before providing Nadir with a detailed report of what had happened that afternoon. He finally stated, "I would like to know, though, why she is not planning to tell – him. I need to talk to her."

Nadir shook his head in disbelief. Did Erik not realize how dangerous the whole situation was? What guarantees were there that Christine had not only said that in order to make Erik feel safe so that he would not leave Berlin before the Vicomte could strike him? But even assuming that she was really planning on not telling de Chagny – what were the chances that she would really be able to keep the secret and not inadvertently betray them?

"I am not sure this would be wise," Nadir tried to make Erik see reason. "Even if you trust her words, you should stay as far away from the Vicomtesse as possible to avoid recognition by her husband and household."

Deep down Erik knew that Nadir was right, but he also knew that he had to see Christine again. He had had to live without her for so many years, he needed at least the chance to see her, to hear her voice again. Seeing her at that afternoon tea had re-awoken his dormant feelings for her, his longing, and he was determined to make the best possible use of this unexpected chance that Fate had dealt him. "I will see her again," he stated simply. "If you are not going to help me, I can ask Johann and Dora to find out her address for me, but I'd rather not involve them. De Chagny is the new Defense Attaché at the French embassy. It should not be too difficult to find out where he lives. Nadir, I need this," he implored his friend. "I promise I will be careful, and I will not … even though I still... she won't have anything to fear from me..." Erik's voice conveyed all the pain and heartache that Christine had caused him.

Nadir sighed. He pitied his friend. It had taken Erik so long to accept the fact that Christine was lost to him and now, when Nadir finally had hoped that Erik would be able to put all his suffering behind him, that woman had to show up in Berlin and reopen Erik's barely healed wounds.

"I do not approve of what you are planning to do," Nadir finally agreed, "but I will get you the address. I realize that you are determined to see her, and that nothing will stop you. At least, if I help you, nobody else can get involved and thus be suspected of being an accomplice, if you are found out by de Chagny."

Xxxx

Christine was in an indescribable mood. She felt more alive than she had felt in a very long time. It was as if she had rediscovered a part of herself that had been missing. The afternoon at Gertraud's had made her realize how much she really missed music. The way her Angel – Dumesnil – had played the piano, the many emotions he had coaxed from the instrument, had touched her very core. And when Gertraud had shown her the songs he had written, those deep, meaningful words and haunting, melancholic melodies had make her long to sing again, to bring these songs to life.

But it was not music alone that was slowly, but inexorably trying to find its way back into her life. If Christine was honest with herself, she had to admit that she was just as happy to have found her Angel again. It was so good to know that he was alive and well, and it certainly was flattering to think that he had not forgotten her, had even dedicated his songs to her.

Christine smiled. What would Gertraud and the others say if she told them she was their idol's mysterious secret love? Would they believe her? She shook her head. No, she would not tell them. This was her little secret, hers and her Angel's.

Her Angel! Where might he be just now? What was he doing? Was he playing the piano for another group of ladies today? Somehow Christine did not like that idea. Didn't his music belong to her? Wasn't he _her_ Angel?

Her thoughts went back to her time at the Opéra Populaire, when he had taught her to sing. Even when she had still believed him to be an Angel, she had never imagined him teaching other mortals, he had always been hers and hers alone. And later, when she had learned the truth about him... there had been no doubt about his feelings for her, feelings that had frightened her, and in a way still did. But as unnerving as those emotions might have been and even though she still trembled at the memory of those few months, there never had been even the slightest doubt that his heart belonged to her. True, she had not wanted it then, but...

Christine shook her head. She did not understand herself. When this man, her Angel, had offered her his heart on a silver platter, she had dismissed his devotion and broken his heart, and now she felt as if she had lost something of immeasurable value when she imagined him playing his music for others, sharing his innermost feelings with them.

"That's because we are friends," she tried to explain that new feeling to herself. "Of course, because I have known him for so much longer than they have, I feel sort of entitled to hear his music first. But he needs to make a living and therefore he is selling his music, sharing it with everybody. That has nothing to do with our friendship." But no matter what she told herself, she could not quite get rid of the sting that the idea of her Angel playing for others caused her.

She then began to wonder when she would see him again. She realized that he might be a bit more reclusive now, since he knew that she and Raoul were in Berlin as well. Even though she had let him know that she would be no danger to him, he still could not risk running into Raoul. He would therefore most likely avoid any public events and probably cancel any upcoming concert performances for the foreseeable future.

Christine sighed in frustration. The more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that she would see her Angel again anytime soon. "He cannot risk approaching me," she told herself. "It would be too dangerous for him." But deep down she hoped that just like in the past, that even if it meant he had to move heaven and hell, he would find a way to contact her.

Then she remembered the way how he had seemed to look through her when Gertraud had introduced them and she shivered. What if he had not forgiven her for that last evening, when she had removed his mask during the performance of "Don Juan Triumphant", thus exposing his deformed face to the entire audience? What if as a result of her actions that night and her subsequent marriage to Raoul his love had turned into indifference? Would he not avoid her in that case?

"Please Angel, be not mad at me any longer," she implored him in her thoughts. "Please, let us be friends again!"

Christine finally decided that she would wait till after the upcoming Christmas holidays. If by the new year she had not seen her Angel again nor heard from him, she would try to contact him. Maybe she could ask Gertraud to make her mother try to get Dumesnil's address through her friend Dora Lüders. Or maybe, she could write a letter to her Angel, sending it to Mr. Lüders' music publishing company, asking to forward it to Monsieur Dumesnil? Neither approach was without risk, but they both held at least a certain chance at succeeding in contacting her Angel.

Xxxxx

Mme. Giry stared at the two envelopes that the postman had just delivered to her. She knew the handwriting on both only too well, though she had not heard from either of the two addressors in a long time. Erik managed to send her a short note every now and then, but the last thing she had heard from him was a little newspaper clipping reporting on his successful concert debut in Berlin last spring. He had enclosed a rough translation of the article, and she remembered clearly how proud of him and his success she had been when she had read that note.

It had been even longer since she had last heard from Christine. The de Chagnys seemed to need nobody but each other, and it was rare that a letter found its way from Brittany to Paris. Mme. Giry frowned, trying to remember what had been the last thing she had heard from her surrogate daughter. "Isabelle was born in late March," she murmured. "I remember an invitation to the christening, but we could not go, because Meg could not get time off from the theater... yes, I guess that was the last letter I got. I have not heard from her since then."

And anxious to learn how Christine and her family were doing right now, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the elaborate Christmas card it contained. Christine wished her and Meg all the best for the holidays, also on behalf of her husband and daughters. When Mme. Giry turned the card to see if there was anything else on it, she suddenly stiffened, for there was only one more question: "Do you know that my Angel is in Berlin?" was written there in Christine's clear handwriting.

Mme. Giry gasped and picked up the envelope again. She had been too eager to read Christine's letter to pay attention to the postmark. Now, at close inspection, she easily noticed that the letter had been posted in Berlin.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "How come... what is she doing in Berlin, and how has she found out about Erik there?"

She quickly opened the other letter, hoping to gain some more clarification from her other protegé's message. But Erik's note was about as short as Christine's. "Did you know Christine and de Chagny were coming to Berlin?" he had written. "I ran into her without a warning."

Mme. Giry sank into a chair, exhausted. She prayed to the Holy Virgin and every Saint she could think of, begging them to keep her two protegés safe, to prevent them from destroying one another as they had almost done more than three and a half years ago.


	9. Meeting

I love weekends - they allow me to pursue my interests. Yep, that means, the new chapter is ready. Thank you all for your reviews, for reading, alerting, favoriting. I am happy that this story has already found so many followers, even though it's barely past the basic setup yet.

Oh, and Million, we are both wrong, its spelled neither protegés (as I had) nor protégées (as you suggested) but protégés - at least when it's applied to a mixed group of males and females, as is the case with Erik and Christine being both Mme. Giry's protégés. This being a word of French origin, it should follow the French grammar. The same is true for words like fiancé(e). I guess you have all noticed by now that sometimes I use just the é, sometimes the ée. It's that simple: male: fiancé, female: fiancée, and if more than one person, the ending is -és, unless it's exclusively ladies, in which case it would be -ées.

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody, sad, but true.

Chapter 9 – Meeting

"There!" Nadir was in a bad mood. He threw a crumpled piece of paper on the table, right in front of Erik.

Erik looked up. "What is that?" he asked curiously, reaching for the note.

"The information you wanted," Nadir's voice held an accusing undertone. "The address..." He felt so guilty for doing this, but he knew he could not stop Erik from trying to see the Vicomtesse again. He therefore had decided to cooperate, in order to maintain at least some control over his friend's actions.

Erik eagerly unfolded the paper and read the address. "Wannsee...," he frowned. He was unfamiliar with that particular area of Berlin.

"It's one of these fancy new neighborhoods," Nadir explained, "very expensive." And he described to Erik how he could get there. Erik nodded. He remembered now having read about the elegant villas that were springing up like mushrooms in the Wannsee area.

Erik rose from the table and walked towards the hall. "I'll have a look," he told Nadir. "Don't worry, I will be back for dinner."

Nadir groaned. "Be careful," he admonished his friend. "Don't underestimate de Chagny. If he thinks that you are pursuing his wife again, trying to steal her away from him..."

Erik gave his friend a condescending look. "I will do no such thing," he said. "I only want to talk to my former student." He was out of the door before Nadir could make another comment.

Nadir sighed. "Oh Allah," he prayed, "keep an eye on this poor man. I do understand that he wants to see her again, but I also know that it would be much better, for him, and probably for her as well, if they never saw each other again. This course of action can only cause more pain..."

Xxxx

Christine and the nurse had taken the two little Vicomtesses for a walk. It was dry outside and rather cold, but the air was crisp and fresh and held a promise of soon-to-fall snow. "It seems we will get a white Christmas," Christine said dreamily.

"White Christmas? What is that, maman?" Amélie asked. She was two and a half years old now and very curious.

Christine smiled at her daughter. "I told you about Christmas," she began. "You remember, don't you? This wonderful holiday will be in four days, and it seems as if there will be snow by then, and everything will be covered with snow. There will be thick, white layers on the roofs, and the trees will look so pretty with a little puff of white on every branch and twig. A snow-covered landscape is always breathtakingly beautiful," Christine told the little girl, "but it is particularly special if this happens at Christmas. It is as if the world around us were dressing up all in white to celebrate."

Amélie nodded. "Very beautiful," she agreed with her mother, though she was not quite sure she understood what snow was. The previous winter had been rather mild in Britanny, and her memory of what little snow she had encountered then was rather sketchy.

"Snow is cold?" Amélie asked her mother.

"Yes, my darling, it is cold," Christine explained. "Beautiful, but cold. It is like rain, but since it is so cold outside now, the water is frozen to ice. Snowflakes are tiny little stars made of ice. I'll show you once it will be snowing," she promised.

The nurse smiled. "You are so good with children, Madame," she said, awestruck.

Christine laughed. "I had a wonderful, loving father," she replied. "I remember how he treated me, the things he told me, how he explained the world to me, when I was a child, and I am trying to do the same for my daughters." Christine looked across the meadow, fighting back tears at the memory of her father. "And when he died, my Angel took over," she thought. "In a few years, I will have to draw on my memories of how _he_ made me see things when raising the girls..."

The nurse thought by herself how unusual a mother the Vicomtesse was. She had worked in other families before, and the ladies there had very rarely spent time with their offspring, they had been too busy attending social events, making visits and shopping.

"Maybe we should head back now," the nurse finally suggested. "Or the two young ladies might get cold."

Christine looked around. She loved the meadows and the fields in the vicinity of her new home. She did not feel like going home just yet. But she knew that the nurse was right. Amélie was getting tired, and Isabelle, in her little pram, might be wrapped in a warm sheepskin, but since she was not able to run around yet, she would soon get cold.

"Why don't you go ahead with the children," she therefore suggested. "I will follow soon, but I need to walk a bit further. I have been sitting indoors all day."

The nurse hesitated. "Monsieur le Vicomte does not like it, when you walk around on your own, Madame," she reminded her mistress.

Christine laughed. "Raoul is too anxious where I am concerned," she said lightly. "I am perfectly capable of walking around on my own for a few minutes, and as you know, this is a very safe neighborhood. I will be fine. I will just be walking to that group of trees over there," she pointed to a little grove about half a kilometer away, "and from there I will follow that footpath which passes the backdoor of our garden. I should be home in about thirty or forty minutes. Don't worry, I take full responsibility of my actions, my husband will not be able to blame you."

The nurse relented and began to make her way towards the de Chagny villa, pushing the pram, Amélie in tow.

Christine continued to walk towards the grove she had pointed out to the nurse. She wanted to be alone for a few minutes, to think. A week had passed since she had seen her Angel again at Gertraud's afternoon tea, yet she had not heard from him or seen him since then. She had been so certain that he would find a way to contact her, but for some reason one day after the other had passed without a lifesign from him, and she wondered, what had happened. Had he maybe fallen ill? Or had Raoul learned about his presence in Berlin after all and her Angel had gone into hiding? Had maybe had to leave the city? Christine bit her tongue. She was fairly certain that Raoul would not have told her, if he had somehow spotted – him – here.

Christine reached the grove, deep in thoughts, when she suddenly noticed a familiar figure leaning against one of the trees. Her face lit up as she hastened her pace.

"Angel!" She was so happy to see him that she almost hugged him. His stiff demeanor made her drop her arms at the last moment, though. Her eyes roved over his features, drinking in his familiar appearance, lingering for a moment on his mouth, before looking down embarrassed at the memory of what it had felt like to kiss those lips.

Erik did not notice Christine's embarrassment. He was too busy trying to maintain his own composure. Oh, how he would have wanted to be hugged by Christine, but he could not allow himself this intimacy. He knew that he had to keep his distance. If she knew how strong and deep his love for her still was, it might frighten her, and then she _would_ tell her... that boy.

"I am no angel," Erik corrected her. "You know my name, Madame, it would be preferable if you used that to address me."

Christine recoiled at Erik's cold welcome. He once again did not meet her eyes, but seemed to look through her, as he had done when Gertraud had introduced her to him. Her cheeks, already rosy from the cold, turned an even deeper shade of pink.

"I am sorry, I never...," she stammered, then added, "is that your real name? Erik Dumesnil, I mean? Or is it a pen name? I should have asked you long ago..."

It took Erik all his strength to keep up his cool, distanced demeanor, for he found Christine simply adorable, as she stood there in front of him, all flustered. "It is my real name," he finally said dryly.

Christine winced inwardly. Why was he so formal with her? Were they not friends? She had been looking forward to seeing him again, and now that he was there with her, he behaved as if they were strangers.

"I have not told Raoul," Christine finally stated. "As I promised. And I won't tell him." Maybe he had feared she might betray him again? Maybe that explained his distance?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Erik's voice. "Why?" he asked. "Why would you not tell him? You have every right to be afraid of me..."

Christine breathed a sigh of relief. So that was the problem. He thought she might be scared of him! She would easily convince him that he was wrong in that regard and then he would treat her like a friend again.

"Oh Angel," she smiled at Erik, noticing that he cringed at her chosen form of address. "Of course I am not afraid of you. You have never harmed me before, why would you now?" As he nodded quietly, obviously accepting her explanation, she continued, "I am not telling Raoul, because it would upset him to know that you are here, and he might..." she hesitated. "I won't betray you," she added determinedly. "We are friends."

"I thought your words had been meant for me," he admitted slowly, "but I wanted to make sure."

Christine gazed up at him reassuringly. "You can trust me," she promised. "This time you can trust me."

Erik still did not look at her. "I saw you earlier, with that other lady and the children," he said to change the topic. "A friend of yours?"

Christine laughed. "Oh no, An... I mean, Erik, that was our nurse and my two daughters," she explained.

"Daughters," Erik's voice conveyed the shock he felt at the news that Christine was a mother. "You have children?" That information reminded him of something he had tried to forget, of the fact that Christine and her... that boy... must be intimate on a regular basis, for her to already have two children.

"Yes," Christine proudly stated. She was so excited to tell her Angel about her children, that she did not notice the pain she had caused him. "I have two wonderful daughters. Amélie is two and a half years old and my little Isabelle was born this past March. Of course Raoul wants a son and heir, but..." she hesitated, she was not going to discuss her marital situation in detail with her Angel. "Maybe next time," she finally added.

Erik looked into the distance. He did not need the image of Christine and de Chagny entwined in their bed, engaging in the activity that would lead to yet another pregnancy and hopefully to a son.

Christine was disappointed. She desperately racked her brain in order to come up with ways to make Erik open up a bit more. They had not talked to each other in years and he barely said a few words to her? Maybe she had not found the right topic yet?

"I miss my music," she finally confessed. "I mean, that afternoon at Gertraud's, Madame von Reifenstein's, it was the first time in years that I had a chance to listen to good music."

This finally got a reaction out of Erik. "Your voice," he whispered, "are you telling me that you have not... are not... singing anymore?"

Christine shook her head. "Raoul does not want me to," she admitted, "it reminds him of... the past." She shyly glanced at Erik's face to check if her last comment had offended him. "And then," she added, "pregnancy affects your body, the diaphragm, the muscles. Most of the time I would not even have been able to sing, even if I had wanted to, and now... I guess... I am rusty. My muscles are untrained, as are my vocal chords..."

Erik finally looked at her, his eyes burning into hers. "It is a crime to let your gift go to waste," he told her fiercely.

Christine shuddered under the intensity of his stare. "I never thought about it that way," she mumbled apologetically. "But the other day, after your performance, Gertraud, the hostess of that event, she showed me the songbook that you have published and..." She blushed again at the thought that he had most likely written all these songs for her. "These songs are so beautiful," she admitted, "that I... for the first time since... that night... I felt the desire to sing again, to bring these songs to life."

"My songs are not meant for amateurs," Erik said harshly. The thought of Christine of all people singing the very songs that she had inspired him to write was appealing and frightening at the same time. Did she realize... was she aware of the fact that …. what these songs meant to him?

Christine winced. She was no amateur. She was a professional. At least she had been a professional at one time. "Maybe,..." she suggested timidly, "if I took a few lessons..."

Erik laughed. "And how exactly are you planning to do that, Madame?" he asked her sarcastically. "If memory serves you just told me that your... the Vicomte does not approve of your singing. So how will you take lessons without him knowing about it?"

Christine looked down. "I had not thought about that," she admitted. "But I will give it some thought."

Erik did not dare face her, when he cautiously asked, "do you have a teacher in mind?" She could not have possibly considered … him?

"I,..." Christine was confused. How could he ask? Didn't he know that there was only one teacher that she would ever want to help her with her voice? That she never would allow anybody else to tamper with the instrument that he had created? "I had hoped that maybe... you..." She averted her eyes. What if he did not want to teach her again? If he was mad at her, not only because of what had happened almost four years ago, but also because she had neglected her talent?

Erik frowned. He wanted nothing more than to teach her again, bring her glorious voice up to its previous level of excellency again, but... There were many things he had to consider. The Vicomte was one of them, his obvious desire to keep his wife away from her past, from her music, certainly constituted a problem. His own feelings for the young Vicomtesse also deserved some thought. Would he be able to keep those feelings, his desire, his longing for her in check, if he saw her on a fairly regular basis again?

"Please, Angel," Christine begged him, her eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. Erik's heart melted. How could he deny her, when she looked at him like that?

"I will think about it," Erik promised. "But it may take a while till I have figured out a way how we can do this. Don't tell anybody, don't do anything on your own, just wait. Once I have found a way you will hear from me. But keep in mind that it might take a few weeks. I will not contact you before I have it all arranged, so don't fret if you do not hear from me for a while."

Christine beamed. She once again felt like hugging her Angel. "Thank you," she whispered. "I will wait patiently. And..." Christine hesitated for a moment. "I am looking forward to taking lessons with you again."

She suddenly realized that she had spent at least fifteen minutes talking to her Angel. The nurse was probably already getting nervous, waiting for her mistress to return home. "I must go now," she explained. "I am late already, .."

Erik nodded. "Go," he said, "do not make anybody suspect anything ..."

Christine quickly ran towards the villa. If she hurried, she could still be home in time.

Xxxxx

"You are in such good mood today," Raoul commented, when he and Christine were sitting across from each other at the dinner table later that day. "You seem to glow with delight."

"Do I?" Christine asked uncertainly. Had she betrayed herself? Was her joy of having been reunited with her Angel, the anticipation of singing lessons with him so obvious? If so, she had to come up with a convincing cover story at once.

She beamed at Raoul. "I guess I am getting into the Christmas mood," she explained. "It's only four more days, and it will be Isabelle's first time, and Amélie is finally old enough to understand at least a bit, and it was so beautiful outside today, the air held a promise of snow, and oh Raoul, it would be so wonderful if we could have a white Christmas! Back home in Sweden everything was always covered with snow long before Christmas..."

Raoul smiled. "My romantic Little Lotte," he teased her. "Dreaming of Christmas and all its wonders like the little girl you were when I first met you. Amélie is just like you in that regard," he added. "Our little princess told me very excitedly that the world would dress up all in white in order to celebrate Christmas, and that you would show her the frozen little stars that are called snowflakes."

"Yes, we talked about that this afternoon," Christine admitted. "I explained the term white Christmas to her and told her a little bit about snow, since I am not sure if she remembers it too well from last year. She seemed very excited about snow," she added. "Oh Raoul, this will be such a wonderful Christmas!"


	10. Coincidence

Thank you all for reading and reviewing, alerting and favoriting. The plot thickens and things are starting to get interesting.

I still don't own anything or anybody... oh, and my next updates for both stories may be late, I'll have a friend staying with me for about a week, but don't worry, the updates will arrive eventually.

Chapter 10 – Coincidence

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief when Erik finally returned to their home. Even though his friend had promised to be careful, the formed daroga had been worried about him.

"Oh Allah," Nadir murmured, "thank you for keeping that love-sick idiot safe!"

Erik cocked an eyebrow. "Are you talking about me?" he asked amused. "Love-sick idiot? Well, I guess it's better than deformed freak..."

"Shut up," Nadir interrupted him. "I am just glad you are still in one piece! I therefore assume that you did not encounter the jealous husband?"

Erik shook his head. "No, just Christine."

Nadir was not sure if he should be concerned or if he should hope that now, that Erik had seen her again, his friend would leave the Vicomtesse alone. "Did you talk to her?" he asked nervously.

"Yes." This one syllable contained all of Erik's conflicting emotions. Love for Christine, longing, pain at the knowledge that she was a wife and mother and therefore lost to him, disappointment and even rage, knowing that she had neglected her voice, anticipation and uncertainty regarding his promise to teach her again.

"And...?" Nadir asked anxiously. In his opinion disaster was imminent now. It was somewhat conceivable that Christine might promise not to tell on Erik – probably in the hope that he might be leaving her alone as a result, but how would she react if she felt stalked?

"She has two daughters," Erik uttered, talking more to himself, or maybe to the wall, than to Nadir. "And she has neglected her voice. Her... the Vicomte … he does not want her to sing."

Nadir sighed. He could well understand why de Chagny might want to keep his wife away from music and all the horrible memories connected with her former career. "They are married," he reminded Erik. "It is therefore only natural that they would want children. And as her husband the Vicomte has the right to ban activities that could cause his wife distress."

Erik glared at Nadir. "Are you implying that music could harm Christine?" he seethed. "Music is her life, and she misses it."

Nadir winced. He had not exactly been thinking that music in itself could harm the young woman, but rather memories of her former music teacher.

"In fact, she told me that she wants to take up singing again," Erik informed his friend. "She wants to sing my songs..." Erik's voice suddenly was soft and gentle, almost like a caress. "She likes them." Erik once again wondered if Christine was aware that she was the inspiration for those songs.

"Well, I guess that means we have to start packing," Nadir stated matter-of-factly. "If she hasn't figured out that you wrote those with her in mind, her husband certainly will find them strange, once he hears her sing them."

Erik shook his head. "On the contrary," he informed Nadir. "We have to stay, so I can teach her again."

Nadir jumped to his feet. "Are you insane?" he roared. "Do you have a death wish?"

Erik seemed amused. "She is not going to tell … him," he explained. "He will not even know she is singing again, even less so, with whom."

Nadir thought by himself that the Vicomtesse was even more dangerous than he had assumed. She was obviously still toying with both men, her husband and Erik, something that could only lead to getting all three of them hurt again.

"And how exactly are you going to teach her now?" Nadir asked sarcastically. "Somehow I do not think you can simply waltz into her home and introduce yourself as the new music teacher, especially since her husband does not want her to have one. And she most certainly cannot come here for lessons, since that would be inappropriate and compromising."

Erik sighed, looking pained. "I do not know yet," he admitted. "But I promised her I'd find a way. And I will," he added resolutely. "I told her it might take me a while to get it all arranged, but that I would find a way."

Nadir rolled his eyes, sending a silent prayer to Allah. He knew that Erik was determined to teach Christine again, and that therefore no argument in the world would make him change his mind.

Xxxxx

The following afternoon, Erik decided to pay a visit to the Lüders-couple. He had to inform Johann that he would not be able to perform publicly for the foreseeable future. To his dismay, the moment he was shown into the Lüders' parlor by their butler, he realized that his friend already had other guests.

"Erik, good to see you," Dora Lüders exclaimed, pulling Erik into a chair next to her, which was as far away from the lamps as possible, so that his face was mostly in the shadow, and pouring him a cup of tea. "You do know my friend Regine and her daughter Gertraud. You recently played the piano for her and her friends."

Erik nodded. He remembered the event only too well. The afternoon, when he had seen Christine again, for the first time in almost four years.

Gertraud beamed. She had not expected to see the famous musician again so soon. "Oh, Monsieur Dumesnil," she addressed Erik. "What a coincidence! We were just talking about you. That is," she corrected herself, "about your beautiful songs. I was just telling Madame Lüders that my friend Christine had never heard them before, but was able to hum the melody just by looking at my songbook. She must have had an excellent music teacher, for none of the ones I've had ever taught me that! I would love to be able to sight-read songs like that."

Gertraud didn't even take the time to breath, she simply continued to chatter. "In fact, Christine loves music, her father played the violin and she used to sing, but gave it all up when she married. Apparently her husband does not like music, but she would want to sing again. Of course she is rusty and would need a few lessons that would bring her up to speed again, and since I want to learn a bit more about music and singing, I have been thinking that maybe we could take lessons together at my place. It would be more fun if we do it together, and her husband would not have to know right away. She can then surprise him with her newfound ability once she is perfect again..."

Regine von Bledow gave her daughter a disapproving look. "Slow down, Gertraud," she admonished the young woman. "You are giving us all a headache, and I somehow don't think you are planning to bore poor Monsieur Dumesnil to death with your prattling."

Gertraud blushed. "I am sorry, Monsieur Dumesnil, I did not want to... I should not have..." She fumbled nervously with her teaspoon.

Erik smiled. Gertraud's cheerful chatter interested him more than she could imagine. This definitely was too good to be true. Here was his chance to teach Christine again, he certainly could not afford letting this opportunity pass. "Oh Madame, no offense taken," he said politely. "So your friend's ability made you want to learn how to sight-read music?"

Gertraud nodded eagerly. "Yes, my knowledge in this area is definitely lacking, but I would love to learn, and that way Christine could get back in form, too," she repeated.

Erik nodded. "That makes sense to me," he agreed. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "you know I used to give singing lessons, it would be fun..."

Gertraud stared at him. "You are a voice coach? You know about singing?"

Erik smiled. "Of course. I could not write songs if I did not know about what is or is not possible for the human voice, things like range, etc.," he explained.

Gertraud gasped. She suddenly had an idea. It was maybe preposterous to ask, but if he did not want to, Dumesnil should not have mentioned... "Would you...," she began hesitantly, "do us the honor and teach me and my friend Christine? You met her at my tea event, she is the French woman with those gorgeous dark curls, the one..." Gertraud bit her lip. It was probably better not to mention that Christine was the one that had told Dumesnil that she would not mention to her husband that she had met him. He was so reserved, too much hero-worship might make him unwilling to agree to teach them.

Erik pretended to give this proposal some thought. "It might be interesting to teach again," he said slowly. "Of course I would not charge you, I would consider this a service that a gentleman is happy to render to a lady, or, in that case, two ladies. Of course, I do have one condition," he added. "This has to be kept a secret, or else I would be flooded with requests for private lessons..."

Gertraud promised that she would never tell one living soul, and her friend Christine was certainly not going to tell, since she had her own motives for keeping the upcoming singing lessons a secret.

It was then agreed, that the first singing lesson should take place the first Thursday in January, at four o'clock, at Gertraud's home.

Gertraud and her mother left soon afterwards, they still had some Christmas preparations to take care of. Once the two ladies had left, Johann Lüders looked at Erik. "You never cease to amaze me, Erik," he said. "We almost had to drag you to Gertraud's little gathering the other day, and now you offer to teach her and her friend?"

Erik nodded. He already knew what he would tell his friend. "This has something to do with the reason for my visit," he began his explanation. "I need to ask you not to schedule any public performances for me in the foreseeable future. My reasons are private, but it is important that I am not on public display for a while. Since this could cause speculations, for instance about my health, or who knows what, I thought it might be a good idea to make sure I do not disappear completely from society. That's why I asked to keep the arrangement a secret," Erik chuckled. "They will do so for a while, but sooner or later they will slip a word to their friends, and everybody will know that I am fine."

Johann Lüders laughed. "You are probably right, and if you really cannot perform for a while, that's probably the best way to remain in contact with your audience. It is a pity, though, that you won't be available for concerts, Max just recently asked me when he might get a chance to work with you again. He loves conducting you. But I assume you know what you are doing. You will still write new music, though, I hope?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, I have a feeling I will do more songs now..."

Xxxx

Nadir was nervously pacing the parlor, waiting for Erik. He knew that Erik had been planning to talk to Lüders about the fact that he would not be available for concerts for the foreseeable future, but in his opinion, this would not have taken Erik too long. His friend had been gone for almost two hours by now, though. Where was that man? Had he gone again to spy on the de Chagny woman?

Finally Erik returned and Nadir sighed in relief. "Where have you been?" he asked more harshly than he intended, thus masking his concern for the younger man.

Erik gave him a puzzled look. "I told you I needed to talk to Johann," he reminded Nadir. "They asked me to stay for tea." Somehow he did not think it would be a good idea to inform Nadir right away of his encounter with Christine's friend and the arrangement that would allow him to teach her again.

"Did Johann ask why you can't perform?" Nadir asked.

Erik shook his head. "No, he just said that his cousin Max would be disappointed, you know, the conductor, but he said that I probably had my reasons for this unusual request and that he would respect my wish."

Nadir calmed down a bit. At least the cancellation of concerts had gone smoothly, which greatly reduced the chances of the Vicomte discovering about Erik's presence in Berlin. Now if only Erik could be persuaded to stay away from Christine...

Xxxx

The day after Christmas, Gertraud went to see Christine. It had occurred to her that Christine's husband would have to allow his wife to visit her, Gertraud, fairly regularly in order for the singing lessons to take place. Since he did not want Christine to sing, they could not tell him about those lessons, though, therefore they had to give him another plausible explanation for the frequent visits. Since Gertraud was not sure if Christine would want to lie to her husband, she decided that Christine would only learn about the lessons, once Raoul had given her his permission to visit Gertraud at least once a week.

As expected, both Raoul and Christine were home, when Gertraud arrived at their villa. She was shown into the parlor where the couple greeted her friendly. Raoul thanked Gertraud that she had introduced his wife to her own friends.

"Christine had a really great time at your afternoon tea," Raoul told Gertraud. "She was in such a good mood when she returned..."

Christine blushed deeply. Seeing her angel again, knowing that he was alive and well, had certainly had an impact on her, but had her joy been really so obvious? In that case she needed to be more careful, or Raoul would begin to suspect that she was hiding something.

Gertraud smiled inwardly. "She is smitten with Dumesnil," she thought, "oh, what a wonderful surprise this will be for her, once I tell her not just about the singing lessons, but also about who will be teaching us..."

Aloud she said, "Monsieur le Vicomte, I came here to ask a huge favor of your wife. My mother, Madame von Bledow, is in charge of our annual charity bazaar in spring. This is a huge social event and serves to raise money for the widows and children of soldiers that have died defending their home country. Many high-ranking ladies are involved in the organization of the bazaar. It takes months to plan it all. I wanted to ask your permission for Christine to join our committee and attend our regular meetings. We could use the extra help and Christine … we would love to have her with us..."

Raoul considered the request for a few minutes, then said, "this is certainly a worthy cause, and I am sure that Christine can only profit from such an activity. She certainly needs friends her age. On the other hand, I do not want her to commit to something that would not leave her enough time to spend with our daughters. So, how often will these meetings take place?"

"Once a week, for maybe one or two hours," Gertraud quickly said. "The first one would be on Thursday, January 7, at 3:30, at my place." Gertraud was well aware that she had agreed with Erik to start at four o'clock, but she thought she might need a few minutes with Christine before their teacher arrived to explain it all to her.

"That's perfect," Raoul said to Christine. "I always have these long meetings with the Ambassador Thursday afternoon and come home late, so I guess it would be good for you to meet with the other ladies then, so that you are not so alone during my absence. What do you think?"

Christine hesitated. "I am not sure," she said. "I have never done anything like that before. I might not be of much use to the other ladies."

"You'll do fine," Gertraud tried to convince her. "When I joined the committee for the first time three years ago, I had no idea either, but the more experienced ladies helped me along and I soon understood how such a bazaar works. You'll see, it's easy. You'll catch on in no time. Please, Christine, say yes!" Gertraud insisted. "I promise, you won't regret it."

Christine suddenly caught on that Gertraud obviously had an ulterior motive in trying to make her accept this proposal. She was not quite sure, why her new friend would want her to agree to help with the charity work, but it seemed important to her that she did.

"I would like to give it a try," she therefore announced. Raoul smiled at her. He was glad that Christine had made friends in Berlin so fast and that she started to socialize and be open again to whatever life had to offer.

"The doctor was right," he thought by himself. "All she needed was a change of scenery. She is much more lively now than she used to be and this charming, though a bit talkative Madame von Reifenstein is certainly good for her."

"Oh Christine, this is wonderful!" Gertraud exclaimed. "I am so delighted that you will join us. You'll see, this is fun work, and most definitely a worthy cause. I am absolutely positive that you will have a great time!"

Christine smiled. "I will try my best to fit in," she promised. Even though she still had her doubts about her ability to help organize a charity event, she liked Gertraud's impulsive ways and was therefore looking forward to meeting her again soon.

"I'll see you on the seventh, then," Gertraud cheerfully reminded Christine at the end of her visit. She was very proud of herself. Not only had she made sure that Christine would show up for the first singing lesson, she had also manipulated Christine's husband in such a way that he had given Christine permission to visit Gertraud rather frequently.

"He is a dolt," she thought about Raoul. "Handsome, yes, sort of, but not too bright, and absolutely no interest in music. I wonder why Christine married him? They do not seem to have much in common..."


	11. Music lesson

Hi everybody, I am back. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, alerting and adding to your favorites. I am glad that you all like Gertraud. And yes, her assessment of Raoul was a bit unusual, but not too far off, wouldn't you agree?

Anyway, next chapter ahead, and our dream couple meets again. I don't own anything or anybody. Wait, that's wrong. Gertraud is mine! ;-)

Chapter 11 – Music lesson

When Christine arrived at Gertraud's residence at 3:30 the first Thursday of January, she was surprised to find her friend alone in the parlor. "Am I early?" she asked nervously. "Where are the other ladies?"

Gertraud hugged her and laughed. "I have to confess something," she told Christine. "There is no committee meeting for the bazaar today. I made that up so that your husband would allow you to come. I still hope you will help us with the bazaar, but we'll start work on that only in a few weeks. If your husband asks what we did today, say you are not supposed to tell, since the bazaar should be a surprise."

Christine was confused. "But why did you tell Raoul about the bazaar? Surely he would not have minded if you had just invited me to come see you."

Gertraud smiled. "I could not well tell your husband that we are going to have a singing lesson," she said. "I know you'd like to sing again, but are a bit rusty, and I have never had proper lessons, but would love to learn things like sight-reading music, so I thought we could do it together. That way your husband won't have to know about it, until you are perfect again and can surprise him."

Christine nodded. She did want to take up singing again, but she was not interested in having just anybody teach her. She wanted her angel. How was she going to tell Gertraud that she appreciated her effort but would prefer to make her own arrangements?

"But the best part of my surprise is yet to come," Gertraud continued. "Guess who is going to teach us? You'll never guess! Erik Dumesnil himself!"

Christine's eyes widened. Her angel! She was to see him again. He would be here in a few minutes and he would teach her again. But how had he been able to organize this so quickly? And why had he not told her himself about this arrangement? She glanced at Gertraud. How well did she know her an.. – Dumesnil? Was she doing this as a favor to him? How much did she know about her own relationship with the famous musician?

"I was not aware Monsieur Dumesnil is teaching," Christine finally stammered. "I mean, he seemed so reserved to me the other day, a very private person…"

"I didn't know either," Gertraud admitted. "It was such a coincidence. My mother and I went to see Dora Lüders and wish her and her family a merry Christmas. You know she is my mother's best friend and my godmother. And while we were having tea with Dora and her husband, Dumesnil shows up. I guess he also just wanted to wish them all the best for the holidays, since Lüders is his publisher and they are friends. Well, I thanked him once again for coming to my afternoon tea the other day and I told him that I wanted to take singing lessons so I could sing his songs and my friend who needs to brush up on her singing could join me, and I mentioned how impressed I was with your ability to sight-read music and everything, and then he said he used to teach singing. So I asked and he agreed. But we must keep it a secret, otherwise he would be flooded with requests for private lessons. I assured him we would not mention it to anybody, I was certain you would not tell your husband, since he does not want you to sing…"

Christine smiled. If what Gertraud had told her was the truth, then this arrangement had really come about as a coincidence. If not… she did not want to dwell on the possibility that her angel and Gertraud knew each other better than they wanted to admit, that maybe her angel now had other friends, that maybe she now only was one among many, when a few years ago she had been the only one for him. Why did that thought cause her pain? Christine did not quite understand that nagging feeling, but she knew she wanted her angel to herself. She did not want to share him with others.

"So this was just a lucky coincidence?" Christine asked. "You do not really know Dumesnil?" Her voice sounded a bit uncertain.

Gertraud looked at her quizzically. "I have of course been to his concerts," she said. "But other than that, I have only seen him twice. At my afternoon tea in December, and at the Lüders' place a few days later. Why do you ask?"

Christine shook her head to clear her thoughts. "No particular reason," she finally mumbled. "I just thought… how strange a coincidence this is. We want to sing and he offers to teach us…"

Gertraud nodded. "Yes, I know. I could not believe my luck myself. But maybe he just enjoys teaching and therefore…"

She was interrupted when her butler showed Erik in. She went to greet her guest. "Oh, Monsieur Dumesnil," she said, "my friend and I are so thrilled that you are willing to help us with our singing. You remember Christine de Chagny?" She said by way of introducing Christine.

Erik took Gertraud's outstretched hand and kissed it gingerly, then bowed formally in front of Christine. "Madame von Reifenstein, Madame de Chagny," he greeted the ladies. "Shall we begin the lesson?"

Gertraud eagerly moved towards the piano, where she had piled up a few songbooks, Erik's own one on top. "I have prepared some music," she explained. "Of course I have no idea what kind of song would be suitable for lessons, but I hope some of those may work."

Erik sat down in front of the piano. "I do not think we will need sheet music right away," he informed Gertraud. "I would like to begin with some basics, like correct posture and breathing technique. I understand that you had singing lessons at one point?" he asked Christine, once again looking through her, the way he had done at that afternoon tea.

Christine bit her lip. She was not sure what she had expected. Of course he could not admit that they knew each other. They had to pretend to be perfect strangers. This was going to be difficult, but at least she could see him on a regular basis now and he would teach her again. Maybe, with time, they could develop this into a new friendship, into something as meaningful as what they had had all those years ago at the Opéra Populaire.

"Yes, I used to sing," she calmly replied. "But when I got married, I stopped. My husband is not too fond of music, and when I had my two daughters…" Christine blushed. Talking about pregnancy was not exactly considered appropriate, especially not in front of a man, and somehow it felt extremely awkward to mention such things to her angel. Her eyes were drawn to his long, slender fingers, and for a moment she remembered the feeling of these fingers on her neck, caressing her gently, lovingly during the performance of his opera, only moments before she had ripped off his mask…

Erik did not seem to notice her unease. "Then you should remember about proper posture and breathing," he commented. "Would you please tell us what you remember and show us what you think is the best posture for singing. I will then tell you, if you remember correctly, and then both, you and Madame von Reifenstein, can work on it."

Christine nodded, and began to list the elements of proper posture that her angel had told her so many years ago. When she was finished, she tried to assume the position she had described, expectantly looking at Erik to see if she had gotten it right.

Erik looked her over critically. Oh, the effort it cost him to concentrate on the lesson at hand and not to let his eyes linger on her sweet face, her swelling bosom and narrow waist. "Very good," he finally said dryly. "You got it almost right. Just try to relax a bit more and hold your head up a bit straighter, like that…" He gently pulled Christine's head in the correct position. His fingers were cold as they had always been, and yet… a wave of warmth shot through Christine at his touch and she blushed deeply.

"That's better," Erik announced. "Now, Madame von Reifenstein, can you match Madame de Chagny's posture?"

Gertraud tried, and after some giggling and some correction by Erik, she was as close to perfect as she would ever get. Erik explained proper breathing next. Gertraud was very surprised. She had had vague ideas that one used the diaphragm for breathing while singing, but she had never known how to properly do that. Christine had known at one point, but her long break in singing and her pregnancies had caused her muscles to weaken.

Erik frowned. He was not happy with either of his pupils right now and for a moment he even forgot his love and desire for Christine over the shock how poorly her breathing was at the moment.

"No, no, no, Mesdames," he said frustrated. "That is not at all how it is done. Madame de Chagny, I thought you had had lessons before. Did your previous teacher not tell you how to breath?"

Christine blushed. She was embarrassed. What must her angel think of her? He had worked so hard to turn her into a prima donna and she had forgotten so much. "I am sorry," she whispered and tried her best to satisfy her teacher.

"Better," Erik commented dryly. "Now to you, Madame von Reifenstein. Did you listen to what I said? You must breath from here." He pointed to his own diaphragm. "Like this," and he demonstrated once again, how Gertraud should breath. Gertraud was beginning to get annoyed. She had expected to be singing with Christine, and all they had done for the past half hour was practice posture and breathing? But a quick glance at Christine told her that her friend was thrilled. She therefore sighed and decided to go along with this for Christine's sake. She made another effort to breath from her diaphragm. "Better?" she asked hesitantly.

Erik sighed. "A bit," he grumbled. It was getting painfully obvious that Madame von Reifenstein was hopeless. She lacked not only the proper talent, but also the patience and ambition necessary to succeed in this endeavor. He began to understand, though, that he needed to keep her interested, if he wanted to be able to teach Christine regularly. She definitely needed some coaching and practice before her voice could reach its former level of excellence again.

"I guess that is the best the two of you can muster right now," Erik said sourly. "Try to practice before our next lesson. Breathing and posture are of the utmost importance for a singer. Now let's do some warm-up. I assume you remember your scales, Madame de Chagny?" As Christine nodded, Erik continued. "Good. Let's start at middle c. You first, then Madame von Reifenstein, then we go up a half-tone and then we'll see how far up we get."

Christine concentrated hard, and to her relief Erik had nothing to correct about her first few scales, while Gertraud was forcing the higher notes a bit too much for Erik's taste and was corrected. After a few scales, though, once Christine was touching the higher register, Erik winced. She was so completely out of practice that the high notes sounded flat.

Gertraud was shocked. In her opinion Christine had been simply perfect. She had reached higher notes than Gertraud could ever dream of reaching and Dumesnil was not impressed? He even scolded Christine, accusing her of shaming her former teacher by having forgotten so much. Christine did not seem to mind, though. She was rather apologetic, assuring Dumesnil over and over again that she would work hard to learn to do it right again.

After an hour all three were exhausted, though for different reasons. Gertraud was relieved that the lesson was over. Singing was considerably more tiring than she had thought. Christine was torn between shame over how much she had forgotten and excitement of being taught by her angel again, while Erik was exasperated about what little success his teaching had had with both his pupils.

"May I suggest we take some tea?" Gertraud politely offered, remembering her duties as a hostess.

Erik excused himself. He needed to be alone and to think about the impact this first lesson with Christine had had on him. He hoped neither of the ladies had noticed, how many times he had wanted to touch her, to correct her posture, to make her feel her diaphragm, … to take her into his arms and kiss those rosy lips. He was almost glad that her voice had deteriorated so much, for this would give him an excuse to see her more often and teach her…

"May I ask when it would be convenient for the ladies to schedule the next lesson?" Erik asked formally, before he left. Gertraud hesitantly looked at Christine. She herself was not too interested in another lesson, but Christine seemed to have enjoyed it. For her friend's sake she could endure another one of these boring lessons.

"Didn't you say Thursdays work best for you, since that's the day when your husband comes home late?" Gertraud asked Christine. Christine nodded and Gertraud continued, smiling at Erik, "would next Thursday work for you as well, Monsieur Dumesnil?"

Erik gave her a brief nod. "Same time, then?" he asked curtly. Gertraud assured him that that would be perfect, and Erik bowed and took his leave of them.

Gertraud let herself fall into a seat quite unceremoniously. "Pooh," she sighed. "That was exhausting! And who would have thought that the romantic Monsieur Dumesnil can be so strict!"

Christine laughed. That comment proved to her without the slightest doubt that Gertraud did not know Erik at all. She did not know why, but this knowledge made her somehow incredibly happy. "He has to be, in order to teach us properly," she retorted. "If he does not correct us, we cannot make any progress."

Gertraud thought about it for a few moments then turned to Christine again. "So you think Dumesnil is a good teacher?" she asked, her doubt very clearly noticeable.

Christine nodded, glowing with enthusiasm. "He is a wonderful teacher," she said dreamily, remembering all those times when her angel's voice had comforted her as a child. It was so good to have him back in her life, even though they had not been able to talk to each other in private with Gertraud around. But she would see him again next Thursday, and… Christine felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Life was good after all.

Gertraud observed her curiously. Christine seemed inexplicably happy, she was almost glowing with contentment. "Is music that important to you?" she finally asked. "Did you miss it so much? You almost seem like another person now that you have reconnected with music…"

Christine looked up. "Am I different?" she asked. If Gertraud had noticed something, so would Raoul. She had to be more careful. "I was not aware… and yes, I did miss music terribly." And my angel, Christine thought to herself. "But I did not really know how much until today." That was certainly true, not just about music, but about Erik as well. Her face fell. "But I have forgotten so much. Monsieur Dumesnil must be so disappointed. He probably expected somebody quite advanced and I made so many beginner's mistakes…"

Gertraud patted Christine's hand. "You were fabulous," she comforted her friend. "I will never be able to sing anywhere near as well as you, you sound good enough for the opera. Monsieur Dumesnil should not have been so harsh with you."

Christine smiled. "I was terrible today," she confessed. "I could hear it myself that my voice sounded strained in the upper register, and I know that my breathing is subpar at the moment. I need to work hard to get my muscles back into shape. Monsieur Dumesnil was actually quite helpful in pointing out what I was doing wrong. He definitely knows what he is doing."

Gertraud was not quite convinced. "It would have been so much more fun if we could have sung one of his songs," she sulked. "Let's try now. I am sure you will sound glorious!"

Christine shook her head. "Not now," she said. "I will eventually sing those songs, but once I do so, I will be able to do them justice. Right now, I wouldn't. I have much to learn – to re-learn – before I can tackle those."

Gertraud pouted. "You sound like Dumesnil," she complained. "You are just as much a perfectionist as he is."

Christine laughed. She liked the thought that she and her angel had something in common. "Everybody who takes music seriously is a perfectionist," she told Gertraud. "But I promise you, once I will feel up to the challenge of singing these songs, you will be the first to hear me sing them."

Xxxx

Erik went home, deep in thought. Seeing Christine again and having to be so formal around her had taken a larger toll on him than he had expected. As much as he tried to fight it, the old love had taken possession of his heart again, filling him with longing and desire. That she had neglected her voice so badly, hurt him deeply, but it also was a blessing. Her poor singing gave him a reason to see her more often, to teach her, to guide her once more. He had noticed how embarrassed she had been about the many mistakes she had made, and he knew that she would want to improve as much as he would want her to excel. What he was not too sure about were her intentions towards him. She had made it clear once that she feared him, loathed his ugly face that now was so skillfully hidden underneath an almost natural-looking mask. Why did she so obviously want him back in her life? Once or twice he had caught her looking at him as if… as if she cared. As if she were happy to have met him again. As if she had missed him. Was it wise to continue seeing her? Nadir was probably right with his warnings. There were only two possibilities: either Christine only wanted him as a friend, then seeing her often would ultimately lead to heartbreak for himself. Or Christine had deeper feelings for him, feelings that she herself was not aware of… which also could only lead to disaster. He refused to consider a third possibility, namely that Christine was toying with him, deliberately playing with fire. No, Erik decided. His Christine was not capable of such deception. If there was danger involved in seeing her it had nothing to do with her trying to hurt him. She definitely did enjoy seeing him again, and as long as she wanted to meet him, who was he to deny her that innocent pleasure?


	12. Tension

Hi everybody,

thank you all so much for reading this and my other stories, for reviewing, putting them on alert of adding them to your favorites. Your continued support really means the world to me and keeps me going.

BTW, I took this week off from work, since I had some "use or lose"-vacation time left, and went to London. Guess what I did there? Right! How did you know? ;-) And guess who played Christine? Anna O'Byrne! Yes, the Australian LND-Christine. I thought she was great. She sang the part beautifully. I especially liked her "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" - so emotional, so expressive. And she played Christine as really, really torn between the two men. Things were not all that peachy on the rooftop. This Christine was confused throughout the story and really sorry, when she left her angel behind after returning the ring. If you are anywhere near London, try to see her. I don't know, though, when she is on. She is the alternating Christine. I guess I was just lucky that I got her.

And if you like Sierra Boggess, go see "Les Misérables", she is currently playing Fantine there, with former LND-co-star Tam Mutu as Javert. I liked both in these roles, too!

Anyway, back to the story. I still don't own anything or anybody except for Gertraud, but at least she is mine! ;-)

Chapter 12 – Tension

When Erik arrived at home, he found a nervously pacing Nadir. "Erik, where have you been?" his friend asked. "I thought you understood how risky it is for you to leave the house, now that the Vicomte is in Berlin. What if you run into him in the streets?"

Erik sighed. Was he going to hear the same complaints every time he went somewhere for as long as de Chagny would stay in town? He knew that Nadir had a point, but how likely was it really for him and Christine's husband to meet in the streets of this large city? Erik was not planning to lock himself up in his home for months maybe even years, especially not when there was a chance he could meet his beloved Christine regularly, that he could teach her again and bask in her obvious joy at having found him again.

"I am not a prisoner," Erik finally mumbled. "I can go wherever I want, and rest assured, I am doing my best to avoid a certain French nobleman, since I have no desire of seeing that particular person ever again."

Nadir shook his head. "If anybody had told me a year ago that you would want to go out on your own, I'd have laughed," he stated. "Then I was actually trying to get you out of your isolation, to make you socialize. And now...," he shrugged in frustration. "Now I would give my right arm to see you reluctant to leave our home."

Erik felt guilty. He knew that Nadir genuinely cared for him and was worried every time he went on an errand. "I am careful, Nadir," he promised. "I took a carriage and I was leaning back in the seat, so that nobody could clearly see me. You know I have my ways of passing unseen in a crowd, and I even learned a few tricks from you. I am perfectly safe in the streets."

Nadir sighed. He knew that Erik was right. After all, the former Opera Ghost was a master of disguises and illusions, and it was truly unlikely that he could be spotted by the Vicomte – or anybody else, for that matter – if he did not want to be seen.

"It's not that I don't trust your abilities to avoid your rival," Nadir finally said. "I would just be less worried if you did not insist on putting yourself in harm's way. Like today. What was so important that you had to go out yourself? That Darius or myself could not have run the errand for you?"

Erik hesitated. He did not really want to confess to his friend, where he had been and whom he had seen there, but he knew that it was impossible to keep the whole arrangement from Nadir indefinitely. Next week, at the latest, when Erik would leave the house again at the same time, Nadir would get suspicious. It was probably better to tell him everything right now in order to avoid a nasty scene later.

"I was at Madame von Reifenstein's residence," Erik finally admitted. "You know, Dora's goddaughter, where I recently performed for a group of ladies."

Nadir frowned. "And what did you do there?" he asked curiously. "Entertain her and her lady-friends again?"

Erik looked down. This was harder than he had thought. "I gave her a singing lesson," he mumbled.

Nadir stared at him, wide-eyed. "Christine," he whispered. "Don't even try to tell me that has nothing to do with her. She was there, was she not? And you knew, that's why you went there."

Erik nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "I found a way to teach her again," and he confessed everything to Nadir, how he had met Gertraud when he had visited the Lüders couple and how she herself had mentioned that she and Christine wanted to take singing lessons. "It is completely proper," Erik finished his tale. "Madame von Reifenstein is the ideal chaperone. Christine and I cannot even speak in private. Her virtue and reputation are perfectly safe."

Nadir closed his eyes. Never had he been so worried about Erik before. It was obvious that his friend's feelings for the young Vicomtesse were as strong as ever. Things would therefore probably get out of control and escalate soon enough, and Erik would be hurt again.

"Erik, she does not love you," Nadir made another attempt at talking some sense into his friend. "While it is very obvious to me that you still love her. Under these circumstances it would be best for you to keep your distance to avoid her, in order to maintain your peace of mind..."

"You do not understand," Erik interrupted his friend. "She may not love me, but she wants to see me. It is called friendship. She is glad to have found me again. How can I deny her the innocent pleasure of seeing her old teacher again? And there is also the fact that she needs me in order to get back on track with her singing. She has shamefully neglected her voice..."

"Fine!" Nadir bellowed, exasperated. "She wants friendship, but you want something else entirely, and you can't have that. Seeing her on a regular basis will only intensify your … desire, love, need, call it what you want, but she won't feel the same way and even if she did, she is married. This whole situation can only lead to a broken heart, most likely yours. Staying away from her is the right course of action, your best chance of not getting hurt again."

Erik sighed. "Don't you think I know that?" he asked softly. "I know every single argument you are throwing at me, and then some. But I can't tell her I don't want to see her again, not when she is so obviously enjoying our lessons again. Not when she is happy to see me. I cannot deny her my friendship, since she craves it so much. If someone has to suffer from that situation, I'd rather it be me than her."

Nadir laid a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder. "I wish I could spare you that, my friend," he said. "But apparently nothing I can say or do will make you change your mind. Just promise me to be careful."

Erik nodded. "I will," he said solemnly.

Xxxx

When Christine left Gertraud that day, she felt somehow invigorated, more alive than she had been in years. What a wonderful surprise this had been! She had not expected to see her angel again and to actually work with him on her voice again so soon. It had been the most marvelous experience to have him teach her again. Oh, how she had missed it all, the Opéra, the hustle and bustle at the theater, music, her lessons, and – him. Her angel. The man that had been her best friend and confidant for almost ten years after her father's death. The person who had had the greatest influence on her upbringing.

How poorly she had repaid him for his kindness and for all the troubles she had caused him as a child! "I need to make it up to him," she told herself. "I must make sure he understands that I care for him, that I regret my betrayal. I need to earn his trust and friendship again, for they are the most important things in my life."

For a brief moment she thought about Raoul, and how he would feel about the fact that she was seeing her angel again. She sighed. No, Raoul would not be happy if he ever found out. "That's why he shall never find out," Christine promised herself. "It is my fault that he hates my angel so much. He believed every word of what I told him that night on the roofs of the Opéra Populaire, when in my confusion after the incident with Buquet I was exaggerating everything. Every attempt I've made since then to convince him that my angel is nowhere near as bad as he believes him to be, has failed. And since that last day, when he tried to trap my angel... I can't blame Raoul for thinking my an ... Erik ... is dangerous, but then, Raoul can't blame Erik either for defending himself and retaliating, but he does." She sighed. As much as she wanted her two dearest men to be friends, she knew that there was no chance of this ever happening. "I hate having secrets," she thought, "but it's for Raoul's own good if I keep this from him."

Christine therefore tried her best to keep her excitement to herself and to let nobody notice how incredibly happy she felt. She could not quite fool her husband, though. Her bright eyes told Raoul that she had had a wonderful afternoon. "So, I take it, work for the bazaar is not as overwhelming as you had expected it to be?" he teased her.

Christine reigned in her enthusiasm, smiled an enigmatic smile and said, "I really cannot tell you anything, since the bazaar and everything connected to it must be a secret. We want to surprise you men with our achievements and make you proud of us."

Raoul grinned at her. "As long as you are enjoying yourself," he said and kissed her.

Xxxx

For the next few days, Christine secretly practiced her breathing. She finally realized what a blessing it was to have her own bedroom, for that gave her the privacy to exercise her diaphragm, without Raoul being the wiser about it. She would have loved to work on her scales as well, but she did not quite dare doing that. Raoul might overhear her, or one of the servants might and inadvertently spill the beans to the master. No, she could not risk that, but she'd make sure her posture and breathing would be perfect at her next lesson.

The next Thursday, she arrived at Gertraud's place at 3:30 again. "I hope I am not inconveniencing you," she told Gertraud, "but I thought it would be less suspicious if I came at the same time as last week. Raoul might have asked why we start later this week if I had come at four. And then,... maybe I can practice my scales a bit, before Monsieur Dumesnil arrives? I can't do it at home or Raoul would find out I am singing again..."

Gertraud smiled. "Say no more," she calmed Christine. "Of course! Let's see if we can please our strict teacher today!" Together the two ladies started singing scales. Christine's breathing had vastly improved, and with it, her confidence returned. Things that once had been almost automatic for her, kicked in and her voice sounded much better than the previous week. Notes that had sounded flat or strained came out pure and full now, and she was already reaching higher notes than during her first lesson.

Gertraud was speechless. She had thought last week that Christine was a very decent singer, but her friend had improved tremendously in those few days and was now verging on the sublime. She was about to compliment Christine on such a huge progress, when the melodious voice of Erik Dumesnil spoke from the entrance of the parlor.

"Brava, Madame de Chagny," Erik said to Christine, barely hiding how deeply touched by her voice he was. "That was much better than last week. I see, you have been practicing." He then turned to Gertraud. "Forgive my formless intrusion, Madame von Reifenstein," he politely asked. "Your butler did want to announce me, but when I heard the singing, I did not want to interrupt and therefore convinced him to let me go in unannounced."

He did not tell the ladies that he had been standing at the door for a few minutes, silently listening to Christine's singing, drinking in her voice and her sight. He had also needed those minutes to compose himself, so that he would be able to treat Christine in a formal way, as if they had never met before that afternoon tea a few weeks ago.

Christine blushed deeply at his compliment. She was beaming with pride. Her angel was satisfied with the progress she had made in such a short time. She knew that his opinion mattered more to her than that of anybody else, and to hear from his own lips that he was pleased with her...

For the first time in a long while, Gertraud was not quite sure what to say. She was flustered that Erik had given orders to her butler, yet she also completely agreed with his assessment of Christine's improvement, envied Christine for both, her voice and the flattering compliment from the adored composer, thought that she would blush just the same if the great Dumesnil were as satisfied with her achievements as he was with Christine's, and felt ashamed that she had not practiced nearly as much as her friend.

Luckily for her, Erik took the initiative. "Since you have already started, let's see how much you remember from last week. Madame von Reifenstein, have you been practicing as well?"

He sat down at the piano and started the warm-up scales. Gertraud tried hard and actually managed to go up a full tone higher than the week before. Erik nodded his approval. "A slight improvement," he said, and Gertraud beamed. She could get used to singing lessons after all, if Dumesnil of all people encouraged her like that.

Erik knew that it was important to keep Gertraud as an ally. He therefore made sure she would enjoy the lessons. He told her that he was teaching two levels in one class, and that he could not expect her to be as good as her friend, since the latter had had lessons before and was therefore an advanced student, while Gertraud was a beginner. He soon started studying songs with the two ladies, but while he made Christine repeat arias that she had previously known, he taught Gertraud simple folksongs. Both his students were happy with the songs he picked for them and worked hard on them.

Xxxx

Weeks passed, and both Erik and Christine cherished their weekly meetings at Gertraud's. Christine's voice was back to its former glory, and Erik found it harder and harder to play the proper, formal teacher around her. His heart was in flames. He was burning with love for her, and it cost him all of his willpower not to break down, kneel at her feet, sobbing, begging her to love him in return. "I promised her," he told himself. "I allowed her to choose that – boy and be happy with him, even though losing her almost killed me. I cannot break my promise now. I can never bother her with my feelings again, or I will lose her for good..." And he kept telling himself that her friendship was already more than he deserved and that he should finally accept the fact that Christine liked him as a friend, teacher, father figure, but could not love him.

Christine was becoming restless as well. She was overjoyed to have her angel back, even though, because of Gertraud, they could rarely exchange a few words in private. She nevertheless loved their singing lessons and was incredibly proud of how much of her singing technique she had already relearned in only a few weeks, but there was something else that bothered her, that she could not pinpoint. Something was missing. Deep down she was yearning for something, without quite knowing what.

Erik's formal behavior hurt her, too. She had hoped that he would use the singing lessons to gradually become closer to her – and Gertraud – and to start treating them as friends after a while. But nothing of the sorts was happening. Erik remained aloof and kept his distance and Christine began to wonder if maybe he still had not completely forgiven her. If he even would ever be able to forgive her, or if she had hurt him so badly that it was impossible for him to put the past behind and give their friendship another chance.

"I wish I could somehow prove to him that I have changed," she thought to herself. "That I am older now and wiser, more mature. That I don't judge people by their looks anymore, nor do I throw ten years of friendship out of the window at the tiniest doubt." Deep down Christine knew that her friendship with her angel was probably the most meaningful relationship she had had with anybody after her father's death, and that losing it would mean losing something incredibly valuable. She was therefore intent on repairing the damage, but she had no idea how she could convince Erik of her new attitude.

"I should make him show me his face," she thought, "and smile at it and caress his deformity. Yes, he is ugly, but he is my angel, and his face is part of who he is. His eyes will still be deep and expressive, even when his marred cheek is visible, and the scarred flesh is actually quite soft to the touch, not disgusting at all." To her own surprise she now thought of his ugly face as being quite endearing. After all, the last time she had seen him, he had been bare-faced. He had not been wearing his mask when she had... Christine blushed at the memory of kissing her angel.

"I might even hug my angel, pull him close," she thought, "show him that way how much I care for him." She knew that he had been denied such simple caresses most of his life. They must therefore mean even more to him than to any other person. Maybe if she did caress his naked face and hug him, he would understand that she cared for him deeply, but she could of course do no such thing with Gertraud present at their singing lessons.

Christine's mind wandered again. She thought back to a time when she had hugged her angel. Hugged and... kissed him. Of course, their nerves had been on edge then, and her motives for hugging and kissing him had been quite different from now, but she knew that it had ultimately been these simple acts of showing affection that had brought her angel back from the brink of insanity and had saved them all that night. Yes, hugging him might be the right way to convince him of her friendship.

If Christine were completely honest with herself, she would have admitted that she _wanted_ to hug – him. Her angel, her teacher, her friend. That she wanted to touch and be touched, but somehow the significance of that fact escaped her and she was therefore able to convince herself that all she truly wanted, was to show to Erik, that she cared for him and valued his friendship.


	13. Confrontation

Once again, thank you all for your continued support, y reading, reviewing, putting on alert or adding to favorites. This story is finally taking up speed. This chapter is slightly longer than th other ones, and it is highly recommended to make sure a huge box of tissues is within your arm's reach, before starting to read. You will most likely need it...

I do not own anything or anybody. :-(

Chapter 13 – Confrontation

As the weeks went by and the days grew longer, Erik moved the singing lesson to five o'clock, since he did not want Gertraud to notice the seam where his mask ended. In the flickering gas light it was barely visible or could be interpreted as a shadow, but in full daylight, there was no way it could be overlooked. Erik knew that soon, it would be too bright even at five o'clock for him to go out, but it was virtually impossible to move the lesson to an even later hour. He mulled this problem over for a while, but the only solution he could think of, was to cancel the lessons entirely. He did not want to, for Christine's voice was getting always more beautiful. He had just started working with her on some of his songs and she seemed to really understand all the pain and love that had caused him to write those. Through singing, she brought the feelings to life that had made him write these lyrics and melodies. It was almost as if she knew. As if she understood loss as well…. loss and the need to be forgiven.

Nadir kept a close eye on Erik. In his opinion it was a miracle that so far everything had gone well, that the Vicomte apparently still suspected nothing and Erik had not overstayed his welcome with the Vicomtesse yet. He, too, was aware of the fact that the constantly increasing hours of daylight would sooner or later put an end to the singing lessons. And for all he cared, the end should come sooner rather than later. The sooner Erik stopped seeing that – enchantress – that held his heart captive, the better for everybody involved.

Christine felt invigorated. Since she had taken up singing again, since she could see her angel regularly again, somehow life had become a bit brighter, a bit more worth living. Everything was more enjoyable now. It was as if her heart were singing all the time. She constantly felt like singing or humming, and was only barely able to suppress that urge. Instead she listened to the melodies in her mind, melodies that her angel's return had awoken, and basked in the happiness deep within her. She was full of energy now, running around and playing with Amélie and helping Isabelle with her first steps.

"Amélie is so much like me at that age," she once thought. "I bet my angel would love her." Then her heart sank. She wanted nothing more than for her children to meet her wonderful angel, for him to take them under his wings as he had done with her, but she knew that was not possible. "They are missing out on so much," she thought. "He can be so understanding and caring, and one can learn so much from him…"

Thursday had become the highlight of the week for Christine. That was the day when she would see her angel, when they could work on a song and together help Gertraud with her simple folk-songs. Now that Erik did not expect miracles from her anymore, Gertraud had actually taken an interest in singing, and once she realized how much better her voice sounded when she followed his instructions, she made some real progress. She would never be good enough for the stage, but she would be able to sing at those amateur concerts that were fashionable in society at the moment and leave a positive impression.

Raoul remained totally ignorant as to what had brought about his wife's improved health and mood. He was just happy that Christine was finally thriving after years of subdued happiness. True, she had been either pregnant or breast-feeding for a long time, then she had been ill after giving birth to Isabelle. The doctor had probably been right. Two pregnancies so close together had been too much for her. After all, she had been barely seventeen, when they got married, eighteen, when Amélie was born. "We probably should have waited a bit longer with the second child," Raoul thought, "but I wanted an heir so badly, and Christine felt so guilty for giving me only a daughter…" One thing he knew for sure: the boy could wait. They were both still young, Christine would be able to bear him several more children, right now there was no rush. Waiting for his son a bit longer was a small price to be paid for Christine's health and happiness.

Xxxxx

One day in February Erik finally realized that he could not delay the end of the singing lessons any longer. "Mesdames, I am deeply sorry to inform you, that I have to leave Berlin for a while," he therefore announced to Gertraud and Christine the following Thursday. "Some urgent personal business calls me away. Unfortunately, I cannot yet say, when I will be back. Today will be our last lesson for quite a while."

Gertraud was frustrated. She had just begun to enjoy their lessons. "But I just started studying that beautiful song Last Rose of Summer," she whined. "I doubt I will be perfect with it after today's lesson."

Erik looked at Christine. Her face was ashen. Did she really take it so hard that she would not be seeing him regularly anymore? "Maybe Madame de Chagny will kindly help you with the song?" Erik suggested weakly. It broke his heart to see Christine so miserable. Oh, how he wished he could take her into his arms and comfort her, explaining to her why the lessons had to stop and promise to her that he would find another way for them to see each other!

Christine fought back tears. Why was her angel leaving? Where would he be going? There was only one place she could think of, where he might have some unfinished business, and for his own safety she wanted him nowhere near that city. "Paris," she whispered, "are you going to Paris… Monsieur?" She almost forgot to give him the formal address and added it only as an afterthought.

Erik's heart sang. He had spotted the tears that Christine tried to hide and he now understood that she feared for his safety. He shook his head. "No," he said, trying to sound as reassuring and comforting as possible. "I am not going that far." How he wished he could have added "I am not going anywhere", but that was out of the question. "I will get in touch with my two students once I am back," he promised. He felt he had to give both ladies something to look forward to, even though realistically he would not be able to resume the lessons before late fall. "And in the meantime the two of you can practice together. Madame de Chagny is more or less perfect anyway, and she will be able to help you, Madame von Reifenstein. I am sure you will both keep your voices in good shape during my absence."

Gertraud nodded. She knew that Christine would be only too willing to continue coming over on Thursdays, since she could not sing at home. She looked at her friend and gasped. Christine seemed to take this very hard. She was crestfallen, almost under shock. Gertraud quickly put an arm around her. "You won't have to give up singing again, now that Monsieur Dumesnil won't be available for our lessons for a while," she told Christine. "We will sing together at our usual time. Maybe we can even study a song or two to perform at the bazaar. Yes, I know, your husband doesn't want you to sing, though I have no idea why, but you can tell him we somehow manipulated you into doing it, telling you that you couldn't refuse, since it's for a good cause or something… you'll see, we'll manage…."

Christine nodded, not really convinced. All three of them were in a rather gloomy mood for the remainder of their last lesson, and when Erik finally took his leave, Christine barely was able to remain formal. All she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and beg him not to leave her – again.

Xxxxx

Christine was better at hiding her pain over the end of her singing lessons with her angel than she had been with containing her joy, she only appeared slightly subdued, and at Raoul's question what had happened, she mentioned something about a problem with the bazaar that they had not anticipated and that could potentially jeopardize the success of their charity event.

Raoul hugged her and assured her that he would not be too critical of any visible problems, and if necessary, he would talk to the other men as well. Christine forced a tiny smile on her face. How sweet of Raoul to try and comfort her! If he knew the real reason for her current mood, though… She quickly composed herself and assured Raoul that she was probably just blowing things out of proportion since this was her first such event.

Christine remained subdued for a few days, though. She spent most of the time deep in thought. She believed Erik that he was not going to Paris. She did not think he would be directly lying to her. Not again. But where was he going? And why? Was he leaving Berlin because of her? Had she done something to upset him? Was it somehow too painful for him to meet her regularly? If so – for what reason? Was it because seeing her reminded him of her betrayal, or was it that he…. that he wanted more than friendship? She did not think that latter possibility too probable, after all, he usually treated her quite formally, but once or twice she had caught him looking at her with such an expression in his beautiful eyes…

Christine had left her daughters in the nurse's care and was taking a short stroll in the vicinity of their villa. She needed to clear her thoughts. She needed to get some fresh air, to have the wind paint roses on her now pale cheeks so that she could fool Raoul, convincing him that she was fine.

When she reached the little grove where she had met Erik before Christmas, she sensed another presence. She looked around, and there he was again, her angel, whose departure she had mourned. Christine's face lit up. "Angel," she whispered, overjoyed. Once again, she almost threw herself into his arms, but stopped at the last minute when she saw his stiff posture.

"I thought you had left already," she began hesitantly. "Will you tell me now where you are going and what you are doing there?"

Erik looked at a point above her right shoulder. "I wanted to tell you the truth," he said. "You deserve it. I am not going anywhere, I made that up as an explanation for why I can't continue with the lessons."

Christine stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Why can't you continue?" she asked.

Erik pointed at his face. "Because of that," he said. "My mask. It is easily overlooked in artificial light, but still very obvious in plain daylight and it is getting too bright for the gas light, even at five…"

"But I already know about it," Christine blurted out. "I noticed the seam that first night at Gertraud's tea…." Her face fell as realization sank in. "Gertraud," she whispered. "She does not know. Nobody in Berlin does…"

Erik shook his head. "No, nobody knows about my curse, except for Johann and Dora Lüders. They understand my reluctance to reveal that detail about myself and are sworn to secrecy."

Christine smiled at him. How sad he suddenly sounded, when his deformity was being discussed! She wanted nothing more than to make him see how inconsequential it really was. "Angel," she said softly, "it is no curse. Your face is part of who you are. It does not frighten me or disgust me or make me like you any less."

Erik squirmed. He was incredibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. "Please Angel," Christine's voice cooed, "let me see your face, let me see the true you again, the face of my best friend, of the person that was there for me, when my father died. Please. The face of my angel means the world to me…"

Erik shivered. He did not want to expose himself like that, but Christine sounded so sincere…. as if she really _wanted_ to see that abomination which passed for his face. Shaking uncontrollably, his hands slowly rose to his face and pried away the smooth leather mask. He then looked at Christine, expecting her to turn away in disgust. To his surprise, her smile broadened and her tiny hand reached for his deformed cheek and caressed it.

"Oh Angel," Christine sighed happily, "I've wanted to see your face again for so long. I don't care about your mask. You may look handsome and dashing with it, but you are dearer to me without, because underneath the mask is the true you, my true angel." Her hand lingered on his deformity, gently exploring every piece of marred flesh with her tiny fingers.

Suddenly it was as if a dam had broken and they had been carried away by the flood. Neither of them could later say how this had happened, but suddenly they found themselves in each other's arms, clinging to each other like to a lifeline, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to disappear, nothing else was of any importance to them, except that they were in each other's arms, kissing.

When they finally broke apart for air, Erik gazed at Christine's flushed face, into her beaming eyes, and whispered, "I love you, Christine."

Christine smiled at him, her fingers once again subconsciously caressing his deformity. "I love you too, my Angel," she whispered, surprised that she had not realized this before. She loved him! How could she have been so blind? How could she have ignored that simple truth for so long? Her angel, Erik, was the completion of her own self, the missing half of her soul. In his arms she felt at home. They belonged together, and it had been his love and presence in her life that had been missing.

Their lips found each other in yet another passionate kiss. When they broke apart again, Erik pulled Christine close. He stroked her beautiful curls and asked, "when will you tell the Vicomte?"

Christine startled. Raoul! She had completely forgotten about her husband. "Oh my God," she whispered, desperate, "what have I done!" Tears began to run freely down her cheeks as she realized the impossibility of the current situation. She was married, honor-bound to a man other than her angel.

"What is it, my love?" Erik asked her softly. "What makes you cry? I understand if you need some time to sort things out, I won't rush you, but surely you will want to come with me now and to free yourself of the chains that bind you to… that boy."

Christine hid her face in Erik's shirt. "I can't," she wailed. "Don't you see it? It is too late. I made my most sacred vows in front of the altar to remain with Raoul till death do us part. I cannot break those vows now, just because it is convenient. And my daughters! Erik, do you really think I could abandon my little girls?"

Erik pushed her away, anger welling up within him. "So it was all a game," he whispered. "You have toyed with me. You are a better actress than I thought. I truly believed that you loved me when you kissed me like that…."

Christine grasped his arm. "No," she said firmly, looking him into the eyes. "It was no game. I do love you. I just never realized it before now." She sighed, exasperatedly. "How can I ever expect you to forgive me for destroying our chance at happiness together, when I cannot forgive myself. Oh Angel," she sobbed, "breaking my vows would be hard for me, and it would be a terrible sin to disregard such vows and to leave my rightful husband, but I might be at least tempted to do that, if it were not for the girls. I cannot abandon them, surely you must understand?"

Moved by her tears and the desperation in her voice, Erik pulled her close again. "Sh, my love," he tried to calm Christine. "I will not ask you to give up your children. We can take them with us."

Christine clung to him, sobbing. How utterly sweet of him to offer to let her take the girls with her, the daughters of his rival! Yet, she knew that would not be possible. "We can't," she cried. "I won't be allowed to keep Amélie and Isabelle if I leave my husband. He is a Vicomte and I am a former actress, the authorities will rule that he gets custody. Also, let's not forget, if I leave Raoul, I will be considered an adulteress and thus not a suitable role model for the girls. There is no way I would be allowed to even see them occasionally…"

Erik was not willing to give up so easily. "We could run away," he suggested, "the four of us, you, me and your daughters. Please Christine, say that you will come with me, that we can finally be together."

Christine cried even harder, her arms firmly wrapped around Erik's torso, her face hidden against his chest. "Please, Angel, understand. I don't want to lose myself so completely. I would put the girls at risk, if we ran away. Raoul would follow us, he would want the children back. We would constantly be on the run. That's no life for such young children. And if Raoul realized who it is I've been running away with…" She shuddered. "He would think you have put me under a spell of sorts, he would come after us, trying to "save" me from you. Angel, I would put us all at risk if I went with you. Please, help me do the right thing. Please let me go. I know it will break your heart," she added softly, looking up at Erik. Oh how much pain she was causing him again! As Erik groaned desolately at her last words, she continued, "but it will break my own heart, too. Angel, if I could see a way…"

Erik pulled her close. "I should be the strong one here," he moaned, "making this easy for you, and I am of no help to you right now, my love. I am so selfish, thinking only of what I want…"

"I should never have left you," Christine sobbed, "then we would not be in this situation right now."

Erik caressed her curls, then reached to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I should never have let you go," he whispered. "When you kissed me that night, I should never have sent you away with that boy. Oh Christine, what have we done!"

Christine sighed. "If only I had realized sooner that it is you I love…" Her feelings for Raoul seemed so small now, so negligible compared to the all-encompassing love and passion she felt for her Angel.

Erik tried to smile. "I wouldn't have believed you anyway," he said bitterly. "I guess it was simply not meant to be. Oh my Christine," he pulled her close again. "What are we going to do now?"

Christine clung to him, wrapping her arms around him as if she needed to squeeze a lifetime's happiness into the few minutes they might still have left together. "Nothing," she said, her voice sounding hollow. "There is nothing we can do now. We had our chance and ruined it. We need to say goodbye now for all eternity, for we can never see each other again." She hesitated. "The temptation would be too great."

Erik pulled her into his embrace and rested his head atop of hers. "Oh Christine," he sighed, "I know it is the only way, but know that my love will always be with you, wherever you are."

Christine nodded. "I am leaving my heart with you, Angel," she whispered, savoring the feel of his arms around her. Then she looked at him. "Kiss me, Erik, one last time, to give me the strength to walk out of your life again, this time forever."

Erik nodded, and once again their lips met hungrily, devouring each other, committing every detail of the other to memory, for the memory of this kiss would have to last them a lifetime.

When they broke apart for the last time, Erik looked at Christine. "This is goodbye now," he said, trying to give his voice a steady sound. Christine nodded miserably. Erik pulled her close. "Don't cry my love," he said. "I don't want to remember you crying. Give me one last look full of love, so that I can keep you in my mind that way forever."

Christine quickly wiped away her tears. She forced herself not to think about the fact that this was a last farewell, but to think about nothing but her love for her angel. "I love you," she whispered, beaming at Erik.

He smiled back at her. "I love you too," he said. "Only you, forever and ever, this I promise you." Then he thought of something. "Should you ever need my help with anything," he said hesitantly, "Antoinette… I will make sure she always knows where I am."

Christine nodded. "Me too," she promised. "Mme. Giry. If you need to contact me, ask her."

Erik started to put his mask back on. "I will leave Berlin as soon as possible," he stated flatly.

"No!" Christine protested. "I drove you out of Paris already. Berlin is your new home. You have a life here, a career. It's us that will have to leave. It may take me a while to convince Raoul that he has to resign, but we will go. I am not driving you away from this new home of yours."

Erik had fastened his mask to his face again. His eyes were still a bit red-rimmed, but since he used to keep to the shadows, nobody would notice that he had been crying. Christine was another matter, though. Her cheeks were red and her eyes swollen.

"You cannot go home just yet," Erik stated. "You need to calm down first. I do not want you to be alone, though. Is there someplace else you could go? A trustworthy friend maybe?"

Christine stared ahead. "Gertraud," she then mumbled. "Maybe I could go to her."

Erik nodded. "I will hail you a carriage," he offered, handing her a few coins. "That should be enough to get you there and back home once you are calmer." With that he turned and lead her to the nearest main road, hailed a carriage, helped Christine into it and gave the driver Gertraud's address. Then he stood there motionless, watching the carriage taking the love of his life farther and farther away, till he could not see it anymore. It was over now, truly over. He would never see his Christine again.


	14. Confidante

So... last chapter took you by surprise? Why do you think the story is called "When We've Said Goodbye"? That's right. Because of what happened in the last chapter. Rest assured, though, that's not the end yet.

Anyway, thank you all for reading and reviewing, putting on alert and adding to favorites. It is good to know that you enjoy reading my story.

I still don't own anything or anybody, except for our dear Gertraud. Now let's see how our two star-crossed lovers deal with their predicament. Christine first...

Chapter 14 – Confidante

During the whole carriage ride to Gertraud's home, Christine tried her best to compose herself. She did not want her friend's butler to notice immediately how upset she was. She therefore focused on her angel, how right it had felt to kiss him, how much at home she had felt in his arms, how endearing she now found his deformed face, the way he had looked at her, his expressive eyes shining with love. Despite everything, she was happy that she could have experienced that past half hour with her angel. "Our happiness was short-lived," she thought, "but at least we had those few kisses and half an hour in each other's arms. It was a taste of paradise…"

Fortunately, Gertraud was at home when Christine arrived, even though she had not expected visitors that day. When Christine was announced, Gertraud asked her butler to show Madame de Chagny into the parlor where she would meet her guest.

Christine was able to maintain her composure till she was alone with Gertraud. The moment the butler had left them, her tears started to flow again. Gertraud pulled her into her arms and tried to comfort her. "Sh, Christine," she whispered, "calm down. I am here, I will help you. What is the matter? Has something happened to your husband or your daughters?"

Christine shook her head. "No, it's me," she sobbed. "I just realized I made a terrible mistake four years ago."

Gertraud patted her on the back. "Don't we all make mistakes every now and then?" she asked. "The important thing is to try and correct them, once we've realized what a mess we have caused. Now that you know about your mistake, you can think about ways to put things right."

Christine shook her head again. "It is not possible to repair the damage," she said gloomily, "not in this case." And without thinking what she was saying, she added, "I married the wrong man."

Gertraud gasped. She had not quite expected that, even though she had never understood why Christine would have married Raoul. So it finally had dawned on Christine that a husband who did not want her to sing was not the right choice for her, but a divorce would be impossible because of Christine's children. Gertraud was overwhelmed with compassion for her friend. She lead Christine to the sofa and sat down with her, her arms still around the sobbing young woman.

"If you want to talk about it,…" Gertraud began, then remembered her own reputation as a rather talkative person. "I know most people think I talk too much," she said apologetically, "but I know how to hold my tongue when it's really important. I won't tell anybody. Not a word."

Christine nodded. She had a feeling as if she needed to tell somebody what had happened today between her and her angel. Of course, the logical choice for such a confession would have been Madame Giry, but she was far away, and Christine did not dare write these things down in a letter that somebody might find before it was finished and sealed.

"I have known Raoul forever," she began. "I was a little girl when we first met, my father and I were living in a small town at the sea in Brittany, near the estate of Raoul's family."

Gertraud interrupted her. "What about your mother?" she asked. "Was she not with you?"

Christine shook her head. "I never knew her. My mother died giving birth to me. It was just father and me. He never remarried, he loved her too much. Anyway, we were staying in this small town, and one day we were walking on the beach. It was a rainy day and very windy. I was wearing my favorite red scarf, but suddenly a gust of wind carried it away, into the sea. A boy, a few years older than me, was playing on the beach as well. He saw my desperation and went into the sea to get me my scarf back…"

Gertraud smiled. "That was your husband…."

Christine nodded. "Yes, that's how I met Raoul. After that, we became fast friends, we were childhood sweethearts, inseparable for the next few months. Then…" Christine's eyes were welling with tears again as she remembered what had happened next.

"My father got very ill," Christine finally continued, "and died after a few weeks."

Gertraud's heart went out to her. So her poor friend had been orphaned at a very young age. "How terrible," she whispered. "How old were you, when your father died?"

Christine made another attempt to compose herself. "Seven," she murmured. "I was only seven, when the world as I knew it, fell apart."

Gertraud rubbed Christine's back. "So young!" she whispered, shocked. "What happened then? Did some relative take you in?"

Christine shook her head. "No," she said. "I was sent to Paris where I lived…." She bit her lip. She almost had mentioned the Opéra Populaire. But Raoul did not want her to speak of her past as a performer, and it was also better, for her angel's safety, to leave certain details out. "I lived with a foster mother," she added hesitantly. That was close enough to the truth, since Mme. Giry had always treated her like a daughter. "She was a widow and had a daughter who was the same age as I," Christine continued. "Meg and I grew up like sisters."

Gertraud smiled at her. "That must have been nice," she said, "having a sister, that is. I always wanted one…"

Christine returned the smile. "It was nice," she admitted, "once I settled in. But at first I was so depressed. I missed my father terribly…."

Gertraud nodded in understanding. "I bet you missed him," she said, "and then you came from a small town into the big city, you left your friend behind… though I assume he wrote to you…"

Christine sadly shook her head. "No," she confessed. "Raoul never wrote. I guess his parents did not want him to stay in contact. I was an orphan, after all…"

Gertraud thought by herself that abandoning his orphaned friend in her times of need was not a point in favor of Christine's husband, but kept this opinion to herself.

"But you eventually adjusted," she assumed, looking at Christine for confirmation.

Christine nodded. "When my singing lessons started," she whispered dreamily, remembering how her angel had spoken to her for the first time in the little chapel of the Opéra Populaire.

"I had always liked singing," she explained, "my father loved to hear me sing. He would accompany me on his violin, but I had never had real lessons until I came to Paris."

Gertraud smiled. "Your foster mother noticed your talent and made sure you could take lessons?" she guessed.

Christine nodded. "Something like that," she said. "My teacher, he was an acquaintance of my foster mother. They had grown up together. They were not blood-related, but they were very close. She felt somehow responsible for him, like any older sister might for her younger brother. It was him who noticed my talent and he started teaching me, since he thought it would be a shame to let my talent go to waste." Christine was proud of herself. She was sticking rather close to the truth. Her face suddenly lit up, her eyes bright, as she continued, "he was more than my teacher. It is true that he helped me develop my voice, but he also became the most important person in my life. He watched over me, taught me everything I know, was always there when I needed something. He was like a father to me, when I was a little girl, and later,…." Christine blushed a deep shade of purple.

Gertraud gasped. "It is him you love," she realized, and as Christine nodded, she continued. "And he? Does he love you as well? Or does he see you as some kind of surrogate daughter? Or is he… I mean, you said he is something like your foster mother's brother, so he must be older than you… is he married to somebody else?"

Christine smiled. "No, he is not married," she said, "and since he can't have me, he won't marry. But you are right, he is much older than I am. He was in his mid-twenties when I came to Paris, and I was seven years old."

Gertraud suddenly gasped. She put her hand on her mouth in shock. A strange idea had passed her mind, a suspicion about Christine's teacher. But the more she thought about it, the more she concluded that her idea was not so outlandish after all, that everything did indeed fit. "Dumesnil," she whispered. "He was your teacher then. The age difference is right, and this lost love of his, the one to whom he dedicated his songs,… it's you, isn't it?"

Christine nodded. "Yes," she admitted. "He was my teacher, and I am the woman who broke his heart. He was just trying to make me understand how his feelings for me had changed, when Raoul came to Paris. We met again, rekindled our friendship, and…"

Gertraud sighed. She understood what had happened. Christine had preferred the younger suitor, the one she might have thought of as her future husband as a child, and had disregarded the deep love of her teacher. "And so you married your childhood sweetheart after a relatively short courtship. If you even fully understood your teacher's changed feelings for you, you never considered him, because you thought he was too old for you."

Christine looked down. "Raoul seemed like the better choice," she admitted. "He was the right age, of noble birth, fully able to support a family…"

Gertraud laughed. "Yes, the ideal son-in-law, that every parent wants for their child." Then she looked at Christine. "What about your foster mother?" she asked. "Would she have wanted you to marry her quasi-brother or did she think he was too old for you?"

Christine sighed. "I think she hoped I would marry him, that we would be good for each other. She may have understood me better than either of my two suitors, for I guess she suspected that I had feelings for my… for Erik, but she ultimately accepted my choice."

Gertraud sighed. "She meant well, but if she suspected you might have deeper feelings for Dumesnil…"

Christine shook her head. "She had her reasons, I am sure. Erik… he was not a successful composer and pianist yet…." Her voice trailed. She most definitely was not going to tell Gertraud that Erik had haunted an opera house and killed a stagehand.

"So she might have feared he would not be able to provide for you and maybe a growing family?

Christine smiled. One could certainly put it that way. Mme. Giry most definitely would not have approved of Christine living in the cellars of the Opéra Populaire with Erik. "I guess so," she admitted hesitantly. "Anyway, I married Raoul, and Erik left Paris and came here."

Gertraud nodded. "He did not want to remain in the city where everything reminded him of you, did not want to see you with your new husband…."

"Yes," Christine sobbed. "I hurt him so much. He tried to forget me, but couldn't. That's when he started to write these songs…."

Gertraud suddenly remembered something. "But when I invited you to this afternoon tea, you did not seem to know who he was. Is he using a pen name now or how come?"

Christine giggled. "On the contrary," she said. "He was using a pen name then." That was not even a lie, she thought, since her angel used to sign his notes as "O.G.". "Erik Dumesnil is his real name, though, but I never knew." Her smile deepened. "And I used to call him my Angel of Music anyway…"

When Gertraud gave her a surprised look, Christine explained. "That's a story my father used to tell me, about Little Lotte being visited by an angel of music and taught to sing. When he was getting sick, my father promised me, that should he die, he would send me such an angel as well to watch over me and teach me, and when he died, Erik entered my life and filled it with music, so it was only natural, that I began to think of Erik as my angel…"

Gertraud frowned. "Maybe your father did send Dumesnil to you," she said pensively. "I do think that our dear departed ones watch over us and pray for us. You were so young when your father died, and so alone,… his prayers may have been particularly powerful… this angel was maybe truly sent to you because of his intervention…"

Christine looked stricken. "I know," she whispered, "I am fairly certain that papa truly sent Erik to me, to care for me in his stead. And I was too naïve to understand my own heart, the depth of my feelings for my angel, and let myself get swayed by Raoul's youthful charms…"

Gertraud held Christine in her arms. "Cry if you feel like crying," she told her friend. "I cannot even begin to imagine what it might be like to find out too late who your true love is…" She had always known that Dumesnil's love for the woman who had inspired his songs was deep and strong, and she now remembered little details about Christine's reaction to him, things that per se might not have meant much, but given their back-story showed only too clearly that Christine's feelings for her former teacher were just as strong. How she had blushed when she had been introduced to the composer! How she had enjoyed even that boring first singing lesson! How she had promised him not to tell her husband that she had met him….

"That first night, at my tea party, you said to Dumesnil that you would not mention to your husband that you had met him," Gertraud began hesitantly. "I know now that this was intended as a message for him of some sort. Is there… I guess neither you nor your husband knew that Dumesnil lives in Berlin now? And you wanted to let him know that this secret was safe with you, that he could count on your silence?"

Christine nodded. "They were once rivals, and Raoul is very jealous of Erik. If he knew that Erik is here, he'd probably find a way to bother him, harass him, … I needed to make sure Erik knew he would have nothing to fear."

Gertraud sighed. She began to like Christine's husband less and less. So he was jealous of the former teacher, to the point of wanting to harm or at least hurt his rival. "I have a feeling as if this Vicomte knew more about his wife's feelings for that man than she did, when they got married," Gertraud thought. "He must be a very egocentric person. He probably overwhelmed her with his courtship, then married her on the spot, before she could realize her mistake. But he knows that her heart belongs to his rival, that's why he fears him and tries to harm him…. And that's why he does not want her to sing... because it might remind her of the other man..."

Christine was starting to calm down a bit. Gertraud smiled at her, encouragingly. "How did you suddenly realize that it is Dumesnil you love?" she asked.

Christine told her about her meeting with Erik that afternoon, leaving out certain details, like the fact that his mask was the real reason for the end of their voice lessons. "He wanted to say good-bye," she explained to Gertraud. "There is no business reason for his travel, he just could not bear it any longer to be around me without being able to … I mean, he is an honorable man… he did not want to try and win me back. He had hoped that friendship would be enough for him, but …."

Gertraud nodded. "And when he finally confessed to you that he still loves you…."

"Suddenly we were in each other's arms, kissing," Christine admitted, embarrassed. "In that moment I did not even remember that Raoul existed, all I knew was that I had finally found home and was where I belonged, in his arms." She smiled at the memory of that magic moment, when she had finally realized that her angel meant the world to her, that it was him she had been meant to love and be with.

Christine's smile faded. "It was only a few moments," she explained, "before I remembered Raoul and my two girls, and my duties as a wife and mother. But those were the happiest moments of my life. Of course, then I had to tell Erik, that it was too late for us to … I mean, I would lose the girls if I left Raoul. I have a responsibility towards them. I cannot abandon my own flesh and blood, not even for the man I love and who loves me back, and I certainly cannot take them with me. Raoul would follow us, and considering his animosity towards Erik…. I would put us all at risk … I had to tell Erik that I could not… that we… that we could never see each other again."

Gertraud waited till Christine would calm down again. She knew that Christine was right. The way things were, she could not leave her husband. Christine would not only ruin her own reputation, she would also be separated from her children, who still needed her desperately.

"You did the right thing," she tried to comfort Christine. "Keep that in mind. It may give you the necessary strength to carry on. The children need you. Focus on your love for them, their well-being must be your first priority now, your main purpose in life. And then…. You know that Dumesnil will always love you. He did accept your decision, did he not?"

Christine nodded. "Yes, he let me go – again, even though it broke his heart…"

Gertraud smiled at her. "That's true love, Christine. He puts what's best for you above his own hopes and desires."

Christine smiled between tears. "He always does. He gave up on me once already, when he thought I was in love with Raoul. He would die for me if that could help me. It's just… I feel so guilty. I have my children to help me deal with the situation, and Raoul. Even though I do not love him like I love Erik, he is still dear to me, even though now I see him more as an older brother or close friend. Erik is so alone. He has nobody…"

Gertraud shushed her. "He has your love, Christine. He may not have known that before, but he knows it now. He will be able to draw strength from that certainty. And I guess he has friends, too, like the Lüders-family. And doesn't he have your foster mother, too, to support him?"

Christine smiled. "She is in Paris, and he is not going back to France again, but yes, she will always be there for him. Erik wanted to leave Berlin, but I said I would not chase him from yet another home. I will have to convince Raoul to take us home to France. When we are gone, Erik can resume his career here…"

Gertraud's face fell. "You want to leave? I will miss you so much!"

Christine hugged her. She felt that Gertraud had become a true friend in those few weeks that they had known each other. "I have to leave," she explained calmly, "and I will have to ask you to help me convince Raoul of that necessity should he be stubborn. But we will always stay in touch. We can write, you can come for a visit, or we could meet elsewhere."

Gertraud sighed. "I will help you," she finally promised. "Whatever it takes to restore your peace of mind, I'll help you with it."


	15. Despair

Wow! We have surpassed the 100-reviews-mark! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, putting on alert or adding to your favorites. I know you probably expected a chapter mid-week and another one tomorrow, but this is all you'll get, and I cannot exactly promise you when the next chapter will be up. There are Christmas parties and choir rehearsals ahead, and sooner or later I'll have to write a chapter for a Round Robin. I'll try to get another one up around next weekend, but don't kill me if I'm late...

Anyway, depressed Erik ahead. And I stil don't own him or Christine or anything or anybody... except for that feisty chick that is not in the upcoming chapter...

Chapter 15 – Despair

After the carriage had disappeared with Christine, Erik's composure left him. Only now that she was truly gone, did the full impact of their meeting hit home. Christine did love him after all, she did not mind his face! There could have been a future for them, she would have been his, if he had done things right four years ago, if instead of getting all furious about the rival, he had talked to Christine, wooed her, … Of course, once the Vicomte had been convinced that he, Erik, was a murderous fiend, trying to get his hands on Christine for his own malicious purposes, it had been over. Even if Erik had believed in Christine's love after she kissed him and had not sent her away with de Chagny, the latter would never have stopped searching for her, thinking that he had to rescue her from Erik's clutches.

Erik groaned. This was all his fault. He had tried to play God, to force people into following his orders, and in doing so, he had not only ruined his own chance at happiness with the woman he loved, but had also condemned her to a marriage of convenience with her childhood friend. There was nothing now he could do to put things right. There was no future anymore for him and Christine. The thought that because of the mistakes he had made years ago, his Christine now had to submit to the caresses of a husband she did not really love, made him sick.

Erik felt like he could not go home yet. He could not face Nadir, who would most likely bother him with questions and offer some unwelcome advice. He turned around and walked away from the road lined with pretty, newly erected villas, taking his way across the fields. Erik wandered about the countryside for hours, trying to come to grips with the new situation, namely that he had finally won Christine's heart, when there was no chance anymore for them to ever be together.

It was already late at night, when Erik finally arrived home, completely exhausted, both, physically and emotionally, his clothes dirty and damaged, from when he had not paid attention and gotten himself caught in a hedge of brambles growing along the way.

Despite his friend's state of disarray, Nadir breathed a sigh of relief, when he saw Erik. "Thank Goodness, you are safe and sound, Erik," he exclaimed. He had been worried sick about Erik, who had left their home without telling him where he was going. There was no doubt in Nadir's heart, though, that the de Chagny woman was somehow involved. Erik had probably stalked her near her home again, now that the singing lessons were cancelled, and only Allah in his immense wisdom knew how she might have reacted to Erik's continued pursuit of her.

Erik did not pay attention to his friend. He walked past Nadir, without acknowledging him, and headed straight to his room. Once there, he turned the key to keep the former daroga out. He sank down on his bed, fully clothed, and stared into the darkness. "Oh Christine," he whispered, "I went about it all wrong, those four years ago. I could have won your love, but tried to coerce you, to force you to love me, and now… now you must pay the price for my stupid behavior. What happens to me, is my own fault, that I lost you is the punishment for my own mistakes, but that you have to suffer…"

Erik finally found the release of tears. His slender body shook under heavy sobs, until he finally fell asleep.

Xxxx

Nadir had tried to follow Erik, but when he found his friend's door locked and heard sobs coming from Erik's room, he gave up on finding out right away what had happened. "As terrible as he looked when he came home," Nadir tried to calm himself down, "at least the boy is still in one piece. Whenever he is ready to face the world again, he will emerge from his room, and then I'll learn what this is all about."

Erik did not join Nadir and Darius for breakfast the next day, but a few hours later, he crept into the parlor, sat down in front of the piano, and began to abuse the poor instrument. At first, he poured all his frustration into his music, his own feeling of guilt and his rage against the jealous fate, that was keeping him and Christine apart, but when he had exhausted himself in front of the piano, he started coaxing much sweeter melodies out of it, melodies that were inspired by the memory of Christine in his arms, of the two of them kissing, of the pain in her eyes, when she had told him that they could never see each other again.

Music had always soothed Erik, and it did not desert him now. Inspired by the certainty of Christine's love for him, a melody wormed its way into his mind and he began developing it. "A song," Erik whispered, his eyes shining with love. "A song for her, as a last gift, to remind her that my heart will always be hers…."

Xxxx

Nadir and Darius both realized that their young friend was deeply troubled. When Erik started raging on the poor piano, creating a release for his pain, they looked at him with compassion. They both felt responsible for Erik, since the day they had brought him out of France and they wanted nothing more than to help him. It was obvious to them that something had reopened Erik's emotional wounds the previous evening, but they both knew that Erik needed to calm down before he would be able to even discuss his current problem and accept their help. Therefore they both did their best to stay out of Erik's way and to give him all the time he needed to deal with whatever traumatic experience he had gone through. They went about on tiptoes, not to disturb him. Nadir was inwardly cursing Christine, for it was clear to him that Erik's current state of mind was her fault. "Whatever she has done to him now," he thought by himself, "I hope Allah will make her pay. She has caused our Erik so much pain already, that she should burn in hell for all eternity."

To Nadir's surprise, after a while, Erik's music changed. The more aggressive, fortissimo dissonances gave way to sweet, lovely melodies that seemed to be joyful, almost jubilant. Nadir shook his head. He could not quite understand what made Erik play such melodies, but at least his friend seemed to relax. "It's about time," Nadir thought. "He needs to get out of this mood soon. He has not eaten in almost twenty-four hours and he is still wearing yesterday's clothes, he obviously has slept in them…."

Erik began to scribble down notes and words on a piece of staff paper, playing certain passages over and over again, then making corrections to what he had just written. Nadir smiled. Erik was dealing with whatever problem he had encountered in the best way possible: by using it as an inspiration for a new composition, a beautiful, heartfelt song.

After a while, Erik seemed satisfied with his song. He put down his pen and sang his latest composition, accompanying himself on the piano. Nadir was mesmerized. Whatever he had expected, it was not that. This song sounded, as if Erik had finally come to terms with his love for that woman, as if his feelings for her had reached a higher plain, as if he did not expect anything from her anymore, while he would love her for the rest of his life.

When Erik finished the song, Nadir went over to the piano and put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "That was sublime, Erik," he said quietly.

Erik nodded. "It has to be," Erik mumbled sadly, "since it is my parting gift to Christine."

Nadir stared at Erik's back. Had he said parting gift? Did that mean he would leave that blasted Christine-woman alone now? He would stay out of her way? Nadir barely dared hope. He wanted to bombard Erik with a thousand questions, but somehow it was not the right time for questions. Not yet. Nadir had to think of Erik's physical wellbeing first.

"Erik, it is almost time for dinner," he gently reminded his young friend. "Darius has prepared some of your favorite dishes, but first you need to clean up. I suggest you take a quick bath and put on clean clothes, then we eat, and after that, we can talk." He squeezed Erik's shoulder affectionately. "I can see that something has deeply affected you. Talking about it sometimes helps."

Erik faced the wall, then gave a short nod. Nadir was right. He wanted to talk about the events of the previous afternoon, and… after all Nadir had done to help him so far, his friend deserved the truth.

"I will hurry," he promised. "Tell Darius to serve dinner in twenty minutes."

When Erik appeared in the dining room, he looked like a different person. Nothing reminded his friends of the unkempt man in the wrinkled clothes he had slept in that had been torturing the piano all day. Nadir smiled, and his loyal Darius breathed a sigh of relief. Their young friend seemed to be over the worst.

After dinner, Nadir cautiously began to question Erik. "I take it that you saw Madame de Chagny yesterday?" he asked.

Erik nodded. "Yes," he said, his eyes full of love. "I owed her the truth. I needed to tell her why I could not continue with the singing lessons." He paused. "She was not aware that nobody in Berlin knows about…" he pointed to the thin leather mask covering his deformed right side.

Nadir barely suppressed a giggle. "Well, considering your current celebrity status and reputation of a romantic hero… it should have dawned on her that the Berlin society does not know every detail about your person…."

Erik faced the wall. "She wanted to see…. it." He grimaced with disgust. "My… whatever it is that passes for my face. She begged me to let her see this abomination."

Nadir gasped. He had not expected that particular reaction from the Vicomtesse. "Why would she ask you to take off your mask?" he asked surprised. "I thought she feared …."

Erik sighed. "I did not want to," he confessed. "I thought she would be scared or disgusted…" He took a deep breath, before continuing. "She said she wanted to see the real me, the true face of her angel, and when she said that, she looked at me as if…. as if she truly meant it."

Nadir had no problems guessing what had happened next. "So you took off your mask," he stated flatly.

Erik nodded. "Yes. I peeled off the thin leather and slowly turned towards Christine, expecting her to run screaming, but she….." His face lit up at the memory. "She smiled at me and reached to caress my…. those lumps of flesh…" He pointed towards the right side of his face, which was hidden underneath the mask. "And then…" Erik's voice was full of wonder, as if he still could not quite comprehend what had happened next. "She was in my arms, hugging me tightly, and we kissed…"

Nadir stared at Erik. Had the boy finally lost his mind? Was Erik imagining things? Christine was married, and from what he had heard, happily so. Why on earth would she kiss Erik then?

"She said she loves me," Erik continued, his eyes bright with love. "And then we kissed again. And then…" His face fell as he remembered the rest of what had happened between him and Christine.

"I asked her to leave her husband and come with me," Erik continued.

Nadir was shocked. "That would cause a huge scandal," he said sarcastically, "and I doubt the Vicomte would let her go. As far as I know, he loves her, too, and she is his rightful wife…"

Erik nodded. "She is honor-bound to him," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "And to the children. She cannot leave her daughters." Erik understood that. He wished his own mother had taken her duties as seriously as Christine did, that she had not fallen for a man who wanted to put him, the deformed child, into an asylum. "She is not like…" Erik looked away so that Nadir would not be able to notice the tears welling in his eyes. "Not like… Madeleine…"

Nadir squeezed his friend's shoulder. "No, a true mother cannot abandon her children," he said quietly. "So what are you going to do now?"

Erik closed his eyes. "Nothing," he stated flatly. "There is nothing we can do now. I offered her to take the children with us, but she is right, the Vicomte would not allow it. He would hunt us down, we would never have peace, and the children, as well as Christine would suffer. So…." Erik was no longer able to control his tears. They started running down his cheeks, both, the masked and the unmasked one, while heavy sobs shook his slender frame.

"We said goodbye," he finally managed to mumble. "For all eternity. We cannot see each other ever again. Christine said the temptation would be too great…." Erik shuddered at the thought how close they had come to actually betraying de Chagny. "We kissed one last time, and we cried, and then…" Erik sighed. "She was so agitated, we both were," he confessed. "She could not go home like that. She needed to compose herself, so I got her into a carriage and sent her to her friend, Madame von Reifenstein…"

Nadir shook his head. He was not sure what to think of Erik's story. How much of it was true, and how much was wishful thinking? "This Madame von Reifenstein," he asked cautiously. "Can you trust her? I mean, if as you say, Christine was very agitated when she went to see her…. she must have given her _some_ explanation…"

Erik sighed. "Christine seems to trust her and to like her, so I guess…" He jumped to his feet and began to pace up and down. "What else should I have done, Nadir?" he blurted out. "I could not stay with her, or…." He blushed deeply at the thought of what might have happened if Christine had been clinging to him like that much longer. "But I could not leave her alone in that condition, and sending her home was equally out of the question. So I suggested she go visit a friend and she came up with Madame von Reifenstein."

Nadir secretly planned to make some investigations of his own. If what Erik had just told him was true, a lot depended on the Vicomtesse's ability to keep her emotions under control – and to confide only in people she could absolutely trust. If de Chagny suspected something, or if Dora's goddaughter did not hold her tongue and caused some rumors….

"We will have to leave Berlin," Nadir stated matter-of-factly. "It is too dangerous for you to stay here. It is probably only a question of hours before her husband gets wind of the whole affair…"

Erik shook his head. "Christine is going to leave," he whispered. "Not today or tomorrow, but as soon as she can persuade her… that boy… that he has to resign. They will return to France. I will write to Antoinette and ask her to keep an eye on Christine for me…"

"But it can take weeks, if not months till they leave," Nadir argued. "And during that time there will always be the chance that de Chagny sees you…."

"No," Erik interrupted him. "He won't see me, since I won't leave the house while they are still here. Officially I am traveling. Some urgent private business has called me away. That's what I gave as reason for the cancelled singing lessons, and that's what you will tell Johann and Dora. Convey my apologies that I could not take my leave of them, but it was of the utmost importance that I depart at once. I will officially return and continue my life as composer and pianist once …" His voice quivered. "Once she is gone," he added. "My Christine, my love… "

He gazed around, his eyes finally resting on the staff paper he had filled with scribbles that afternoon. "The song…" he whispered. "You must help me get it to her. I want her to have it, to remind her forever and always that I love her and that nothing can ever change that. Maybe that will help her … give her the strength to carry on…."

Erik groaned. "At least I am free," he said, as if to himself, "I do not have to pretend, I do not have to … I have no marital duties to another. But she… oh my God! How hard must it be to do that, now that she knows… that she is aware that it is me she loves…."

Nadir patted Erik on the shoulder. "On the other hand," he pointed out, "Christine is in the happy position to know that you will be faithful… Neither of you is to be envied, but each of your slightly different situations does have some elements that can help you deal with it. Christine also has her daughters. I am sure the girls will help her over the worst. And you… well, at least now you know that you are loved for yourself. If she can look at your face with love and kiss it…"

Erik beamed. "You are right, Nadir," he said. "It is hard to believe, and I still consider it to be the greatest miracle ever, but my Christine…" He conjured up before his inner eye a picture of her, the way she had looked at him, so full of love, the way he wanted to remember her. "I must draw strength from that. And… I will try to bear the cruel fate that keeps us apart with dignity. I won't let it destroy me. Christine… she would want me to be strong…" He smiled under tears.

Then Erik resolutely turned and faced Nadir. "Last time I lost her, everything seemed over. This time, she left her heart with me. She gave me this wonderful gift, her love. I should focus on that. I should be happy." He glanced again at his latest composition. "Now, you must help me with this song…."


	16. Song

Hi everybody, since the Round Robin is running late and has not reached me yet, I have managed another chapter before Christmas. Thank you all for your continued support, especially your reviews. No, Erik is not making Nadir sing. And yes, my Erik always learns from his mistakes. I think the kiss in the final lair is a huge turning point for him. That he releases her, even though it almost kills him already shows that he is about to change for the better. Then I usually have Mme. Giry and/or Nadir care for him. I think they never realized before how much he needed their love. He always was so aloof and superior. But when he has his breakdown they understand, and then they show him that they care for him. That's how he begins to change, to mature, and when he gets reunited with Christine, he is much better able to deal with their relationship.

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody, from either POTO or... I am surprised none of you guessed what song Erik would write for her! I thought it was pretty obvious...

Chapter 16 – Song

With Gertraud's help Christine finally calmed down enough that she thought she would be able to go home. Gertraud immediately offered to accompany her. "It will be less suspicious if I bring you home," she explained. "Since nobody knows where you are, we'll tell them that we had an additional meeting for the bazaar which you only remembered at the last minute. You were in such a hurry to be at the meeting in time that you forgot to tell people where you were going, or maybe you were already not feeling too well, and thus forgot. For, we'll say that during the meeting you suddenly felt such a terrible headache, which is why I would not allow you to go home on your own. You may have caught a slight cold or maybe it's a migraine of some sorts. Anyway, you are pale enough to convince anybody that you are not well. You will therefore have to go to bed at once, and maybe stay in bed a day or two."

Christine smiled. Gertraud's plan was ingenious. It would explain her absence this afternoon as well as her pale features, and if she was lucky, Raoul could be convinced that her subdued mood those past few days had been a first sign of her beginning illness. If she stayed in bed another day, that would also give her time to get her feelings under control and to adjust to the fact that her life was in shambles, that she was married to a man she only loved like a brother and separated for all eternity from her true love, her angel, Erik.

"Thank you," she whispered to Gertraud, "for your help and understanding. That way, I will be able to keep up appearances."

Gertraud nodded. "And if you feel well enough by then, you are welcome to visit next Thursday at our usual time. We do not necessarily have to sing. We can just talk, or if you need a shoulder to cry on – in either the literal or the figurative meaning – I am there for you."

Fifteen minutes later, Gertraud's carriage stopped in front of the de Chagny villa. The servants were relieved when they saw their mistress emerge from it, leaning heavily on Madame von Reifenstein. Gertraud took the initiative. "Madame de Chagny has not been feeling well all afternoon," she informed the staff. "She complained about a terrible headache during our committee meeting. I think it would be best to put her to bed at once."

Christine's maid immediately offered to help her mistress to her bedroom. "We were so worried, Madame," she said. "We did not know where you had gone, we thought you had just gone for a walk, but that was hours ago…"

Christine forced a vague smile on her features. "Apparently I must not have been feeling too well already when I left," she said weakly, "if I forgot to tell you…."

The maid nodded. She could understand that a headache would make you forget such important things. It never occurred to her that Christine might not be entirely honest. It was clear to her that her mistress had been with Madame von Reifenstein, when the servants had thought she might have gone for a walk. She had never been in any danger as they had feared. She was obviously sick, which explained why she had not informed anybody of her plans.

When Raoul came home half an hour later, he was told that his wife had been to a bazaar meeting but had not felt well, so that Madame von Reifenstein had accompanied her home to make sure she would arrive safely. The Vicomtesse had gone to bed immediately after her return home. Raoul nodded. He had expected something like that. After all, Christine had been a bit subdued the past few days, which had given him reason to suspect she might be coming down with the flu or something similar. At first he wanted to check on Christine, but when the maid told him that Madame had said she would try to sleep, he decided that it might be better to let her rest.

Xxxx

Two days later, Gertraud received another surprise visit in the afternoon. This time, the unexpected guest was her godmother Dora Lüders, who was eager to deliver a message.

"Gertraud, what have you and your friend done to that man!" she exclaimed. "He has always been so reserved, and now he first agrees to be your voice coach, and then…" She pulled a huge envelope out of her bag and handed it to Gertraud. "For you. From Dumesnil," she explained.

Gertraud stared at her. "Monsieur Dumesnil sends me this?" she asked. "I thought he was out of town… some private business… he cancelled the singing lessons. How did you get this?"

Dora smiled. "Yes, I heard, he had to leave in a hurry, some emergency or other. But he had prepared something for his two voice students, that he wanted to give to you, but could not because of his sudden departure. He therefore asked his friend and associate, Monsieur Khan, to make sure you would receive this."

Gertraud hesitantly reached for the envelope. She had a feeling that it was meant for Christine. Was it wise to allow them to send and receive messages? She had to think about it.

"So Dumesnil has an associate?" she asked her godmother. "I never heard of this Monsieur Khan…" Did Christine know of this supposed friend of Dumesnil's?

Dora nodded. "He is an elderly gentleman, obviously of oriental origin. But they are very close. Khan seems to be the one that encouraged Dumesnil to publish his music. Can you imagine? This highly talented man was working odd jobs before he could be persuaded to share his music with the world!" Dora's voice sounded exasperated. "We are friends now, but I remember, that at first it was Khan, my husband was dealing with, Dumesnil did not dare ask for an appointment to show us his music…."

Gertraud smiled. Even though they had met several times now, Monsieur Dumesnil always had been rather reserved and, while polite, had always kept a certain distance. And she remembered that Christine had mentioned he had not been a successful musician yet, when she had first known him.

"I guess all real geniuses do have some quirky personality traits," she commented. "For some reason he seems to think that he may not be considered good enough…"

Dora bit her lip. She knew about the mask, and while she had never seen Erik's bare face, she understood how a badly disfigured face could lead to low self-esteem. She should not have commented on Erik's difficulties to deal with people, especially not in front of her goddaughter, with whom he was comfortable enough to teach her.

"Are you not curious what's in the envelope?" she changed the topic. "Monsieur Khan apparently does not have either your or Madame de Chagny's address, so he came to me and asked me to give this to you."

Gertraud was curious herself. She would have preferred to open the envelope in private, though, in case it contained a message for Christine, as she suspected, but since her name was written on the outside, she decided it would be reasonably safe for her to open it.

Gertraud cautiously broke the seal and looked into the packet. There was another envelope inside, and a handwritten note. She pulled the latter out first and began to read.

"Dear Madame von Reifenstein,

Please kindly relay the enclosed envelope to your friend, Madame de Chagny. It contains a new song, which I wrote in order to donate it to the charity bazaar the two of you mentioned recently. Since this song is unpublished, you probably can auction it off at a fair price, especially if Madame de Chagny can be convinced to sing it at the event, hopefully accompanied by you on the piano. I deeply regret that I will not be able to attend the bazaar but want to contribute to its success in this way.

Erik Dumesnil"

Getraud looked up. "It's a song," she whispered, "for the bazaar. He wants Christine to sing it and me to accompany her, and once everybody is charmed, which they will be, if Christine can be persuaded to sing, since she is spectacular, and Monsieur Dumesnil's work is always beyond marvelous, we can auction off the sheet music… He wants to contribute to the bazaar that way, since he will not be able to attend…"

Dora beamed. She had hoped it might be something along those lines, since Nadir had hinted at this being probably beneficial to lots of people. "I guess in that case, the next step will be to convince Madame de Chagny to sing at the bazaar," she said. "I will leave it to you to persuade her. If she is that good, she might welcome a chance to shine. When will you see her next?"

Gertraud shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "Christine was not feeling too well a few days ago. If she is seriously ill, it may take a while, though I do hope she will stop by later this week, at our usual lesson time on Thursday. I'd rather talk to her alone, not with all the other ladies there at our committee meeting next week." She was not entirely sure, Christine would even feel able to sing at the bazaar, which was only three weeks away. But even if she did – would she want to do so, considering that her husband was so adamant that she should not?

Xxxx

Christine stayed in bed for two days, complaining about a headache and severe fatigue, most of the time lying still, with her eyes closed, thinking of her angel and the impossibility of their love. In the afternoon she asked to see her daughters, and spent some time with them. But as much as she loved her two little girls, their presence once again made her think of Erik. "They could be ours," she thought, "my angel's children, if we had stayed together…"

After two days in bed, Christine decided to pretend she was feeling better. She knew she was over the worst, she could now think about Erik and their love without starting to cry. She was still pale, though, and her eyes had taken on a melancholic glint. Her heart still ached, but Christine decided it was time to stop wallowing in self-pity. She focused on the positive elements in her life. She had everything she needed, her two adorable daughters, a loving husband – and her loyal friend Gertraud. Thursday was approaching fast, and Christine desperately wanted to see her friend. After all, Gertraud was the only one, with whom she could talk about Erik, the only person that knew. Of course Christine needed to convince Raoul first, that she was well enough to leave the house.

On Wednesday afternoon, Christine therefore went for a short walk with her daughters and the nurse. She relaxed a bit listening to Amélie's cheerful chatter. How blessed she was despite everything! At least she had the children, her poor angel, on the other hand…. Christine forced that thought to the back of her mind. Not now. The days belonged to Amélie and Isabelle. The evenings though, belonged to her angel. When she was lying alone in her private bedroom, she could think of him, relive their last meeting, remember how it had felt to be in his arms and be kissed by him, imagine what he was doing at that precise moment, pray for him….

Since Christine seemed a bit less pale after this short excursion and the nurse reported that Madame had been quite lively around the little Vicomtesses, Raoul had no objections to allow her to go to Gertraud's for the supposed bazaar committee meeting the next day. "We are so close to the event," Christine said with a sigh, "I would hate to abandon the other ladies now…"

Raoul thought that if nothing else, the meeting would provide some distraction, and seeing her friends might also lift Christine's spirits.

Xxxx

Thursday afternoon, Gertraud breathed a sigh of relief, when her butler announced Christine. She had hoped to be able to give Erik's song to her that afternoon, but had not been too sure if Christine would come. She had considered for a moment sending a note to the de Chagny-home, informing Christine that her presence on Thursday was an absolute "must", but then thought better of it. Who knew how the Vicomte would take such a note, considering that he was jealous and thus probably also suspicious.

"Oh Christine," Gertraud welcomed her friend. "I am so glad to see you. I came this close to sending you a note begging you to come!"

Christine relaxed visibly. It had been harder than she had imagined to pretend around her family and servants that she was fine. "I needed a chance to be myself," she explained. "I have been playing a role those past few days, the role of the happy wife and mother, while my heart has been bleeding…"

Gertraud nodded. "I can imagine," she said softly. "But I have something that may cheer you up a bit. Here, read this," and she handed Christine Erik's note to herself.

Christine's eyes widened as she recognized her angel's handwriting. "From him," she whispered dreamily. Once she had finished reading she looked up at Gertraud. "A song?" she asked, her eyes shining bright. "Erik wrote a song for me? Where is it?"

Smiling, Gertraud held out the still unopened inner envelope to Christine. "I think it may also contain a personal note for you," she said, "so I have not looked at the song yet though I have to admit that I am curious…"

Christine eagerly grasped the envelope and opened it carefully. She pulled out a small card, on which her angel had written a few last lines to her.

"My one and only love, my Christine,

Forgive me that I am writing to you one more time after our last farewell. It will be the last time. I will not do anything ever again that could threaten your peace of mind. As a last token of my unending love, I am giving you a song. I have enclosed two copies of it. One in my own handwriting, that belongs to you. Whenever you are sad or feel alone, it shall remind you that nothing can make me stop loving you, that my love is always with you. Always. No matter where you are or where I am.

The other copy was done by my friend Nadir Khan. That is the one you can auction off at that bazaar of yours. You may get a higher price for the song if you sing it there. Madame von Reifenstein is a decent pianist, I am sure she would be willing to accompany you. If you do sing, it will be a sign that you accept my gift and that it gives you the strength to carry on despite our shattered hopes. I will know, even though I won't be able to attend the bazaar.

Yours for all eternity and beyond,  
Erik"

Christine looked up at Gertraud, smiling while tears were running down her cheeks. "He loves me so much," she whispered. That thought made her happy despite everything.

She then carefully pulled the two copies of the song out of the envelope, putting aside the one in unfamiliar handwriting, while lovingly caressing the copy written by her angel himself. His hand had touched these sheets of paper. It was almost as if part of his essence were still clinging to the lifeless pages.

Christine stared at the song title. "Love Never Dies," she whispered. She was deeply touched. Her angel had given her a musical declaration of his love, an assurance that his heart belonged to her forever.

Gertraud smiled as well. In her opinion, writing such a song for his love was the most romantic thing a man could do. And even though it must be terrible to be separated from your true love the way Christine and Dumesnil were, without hope for a future together, for a brief moment Gertraud thought that maybe, Christine was in an enviable position after all. How many women were loved that much? How many could be so sure of their man's undying affection?

"What an utterly thoughtful gift," she gasped. Then glanced at the piano. "Do you feel up to it…," she began, then added hesitantly, "I mean I understand if you don't feel like singing…"

Christine shook her head. "I want to sing this," she said determinedly, "more than I have ever wanted to sing anything. Let's try it…"

Gertraud picked up the discarded copy in Nadir's handwriting and sat down on the piano bench. Only now did she realize the beauty of the song. It started out simple, but evolved into a jubilant hymn to the eternity of love, a love that would live on even after the lovers' death.

Christine concentrated. The first few notes did not come out right. She was still choking back tears. But the further she got, the more the music soothed her, the closer she felt to her angel and the easier it got for her to sing. She basked in the words and the melodies Erik had written for her. She knew this song would always be able to cheer her up, to give her strength. A certain magic seemed to radiate from it, making her forget the cruelty of her fate, while filling her heart with joy and love for her angel. Being loved like that was a blessing after all. She suddenly knew that instead of being depressed about the impossibility of being with Erik, she should be grateful for the love they shared. "Hearts may get broken," she sang, "love endures…"

"Love gives you pleasure and love brings you pain, and yet when both are gone, love will still remain…" Christine was already smiling when she sang those lines. How true it all was, how admirably her angel had captured their situation. She suddenly understood that it was insignificant whether or not they could be physically together. The only thing that mattered was their love, a love that was so strong it would survive anything, even a lifelong separation.


	17. Bazaar

First of all: Merry Christmas to my faithful readers! This is my last update before the holidays, I hope you will enjoy it. I know you are all waiting for the reunion of our super couple, and it will eventually happen, but not right away. Be patient!

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, adding to favorites and putting on alert! Without your support there wouldn't be these stories.

And please keep in mind that I do not own anything or anybody...

Chapter 17 – Bazaar

Christine asked Gertraud to keep her copy of the song for her, since she could not well take it home. "I do not want Raoul to accidentally find out that I am singing again," she explained. "It will be bad enough when he hears me sing at the bazaar. And…," she hesitated for a moment, before continuing, "he probably would recognize the handwriting…" After all. Raoul had received one of the famous notes signed "O.G." all those years ago as well, the night after her debut. The very night her angel had revealed himself to her for the first time and had shown her his subterranean realm.

Gertraud understood only too well, that under these circumstances Christine could not take the song home. "I will keep it safe for you," she promised. "It will be waiting for you here, whenever you come for a visit."

Christine nodded, smiling. Since she had first read Erik's note and sung the song – their song – she felt like a different person. Somehow stronger, more resilient, and – more protected and loved than ever, surrounded by her angel's love. Singing the song had made her feel one with him in a way she had never thought possible. "We are together anyway," she thought. "Our hearts are together. This song is proof of it. His spirit and my voice in one combined…."

Xxxx

Raoul was glad to see his wife smiling and happy again. She was positively glowing from within now. When he asked her what made her so happy, Christine smiled and said there would be _the_ most wonderful surprise at the bazaar, and in saying that she didn't even feel like lying. Wasn't her angel's song the best thing ever? Surely the people attending the bazaar would feel the same way.

A few times Christine thought about talking to Raoul about her desire to return home, but decided it would be best to wait a bit. If she uttered this wish immediately after she had been supposedly ill and definitely very shaken, Raoul might suspect that her unexpected, sudden longing for home had a deeper reason. That something had happened that made her wish to leave Berlin. Christine did not want her husband to get that impression. "I'll wait till after the bazaar," she thought. "Then I can pretend that I feel bored and useless – and that I am homesick, which I had not noticed so far because I was too busy to think. I will tell him that I miss Meg and her mother and our home in Brittany and even Paris… Yes, I do want to go back to Paris now, to the city where I met my angel…."

Xxxx

The day of the bazaar finally arrived. A large hall had been rented and the ladies had spent several hours the previous afternoon setting up everything and decorating the room. There were dozens of small tables, each almost breaking under the weight of the objects the ladies hoped to sell. There were beautiful flowers grown in the glass houses of Hertha's husband, delicious cakes and pastries that some ladies had prepared with the help of their cooks, wonderful needlepoint and crocheting masterpieces, jars full of jams, pickles and other delicacies, drawings and watercolors, and lots of other things that the organizing committee had put together over the past few weeks. A corner of the room was curtained off – which surprised several of the regular customers, since they could not remember something like that from previous years. Little did they know that the curtain hid a grand piano…

The ladies themselves were standing behind the tables, selling the various goods to their male relatives and acquaintances. Since Christine and Gertraud would be performing what was marked as "magnificent surprise" on the little flyers that explained the room layout to potential customers, so that they would know where they would find flowers or pastries, they had not been assigned to a specific table. They therefore took turns helping out at the tables attended by Gertraud's mother and Dora Lüders.

Raoul was walking around the room together with Gertraud's husband Albrecht, who explained to him that all the decoration had been made by the ladies themselves and that it was different every year. "Last year, their theme was African desert or something like that," Albrecht giggled. "They used tons of sand and some paintings in brown and orange. I swear, the sand was everywhere, I could not get it out of my shoes for days. This year, they seem to have been a bit more conventional. It looks more like spring and spring colors to me…" Raoul nodded, as indeed the decoration was tastefully done in light green, white, pale yellow and lots of pale pink. There were hundreds of little flowers made from colored soft tissue, paintings of meadows and gardens in bloom and similar types of decoration.

"And all the stuff they are selling, they made themselves," Albrecht continued, "well, with a little help… I know that Else does not bake all those cakes herself, and Hertha certainly has help with the flowers, but still… they make an effort."

Raoul was surprised. He had somewhat expected that the ladies would organize the event, maybe decide on the decoration, but that they had actually not only made the decoration themselves but also the goods they were selling, came as a surprise. Christine never had mentioned anything of the sort. He wondered what she might have contributed. He looked around and saw his wife standing next to Gertraud's mother, helping her sell crocheted doilies. He shook his head. No, Christine could not have made one of these, she was bad at any type of needlework. And Gertraud, who was just wrapping two jars at another table did not strike him as the cooking type either.

"Do you know," Raoul embarrassedly cleared his throat. "I mean, Christine treated this all as a secret. I guess it must have been totally overwhelming and exciting for her to be a part of something like this, and she wanted to surprise me…."

Albrecht von Reifenstein laughed. Gertraud had asked him to stay with Raoul and make sure the latter would not find out about the song before they would be performing. He knew that Christine's husband was totally unaware of what the "magnificent surprise" would be.

"You want to know what our wives are contributing," he chuckled. "Well, I can tell you, they will make us proud. In previous years it was always a bit embarrassing, with Gertraud not being able to have her own table and only helping out her mother and godmother." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not her fault that she is not good at cooking or needlework. But this year, you'll see. I bet our two wives will be the stars of the evening…." He not only knew what they would be doing, he also had listened to their last rehearsal the previous afternoon. He pointed to the leaflet. "Magnificent surprise. That's them, and it truly will be magnificent."

Raoul had not paid much attention to the flyer yet. He now studied it closer and noticed that there was indeed a "magnificent surprise" announced, which would take place in about half an hour. He was curious now. "You know what it is," he stated the obvious.

Albrecht smirked. "Yes, but I am sworn to secrecy. My Gertraud would kill me if I told you about it. But it's only thirty minutes or so, then you'll know, too, and I am sure you'll agree it was worth the wait. In the meantime, why don't we have a look at the various tables and purchase some of the goods? I am sure our two ladies would be disappointed if we did not spend a certain amount of money at the bazaar…."

Albrecht lead Raoul from table to table, maneuvering him as far away from the concealed piano as possible. Both men stocked up on jam, embroidered napkins and similar items, barely noticing the time flying by.

Suddenly Dora Lüders stepped in front of the curtain and rang a little bell. Everybody immediately turned in her direction to find out what this was about.

"As you all will have noticed by now," Dora announced, "this year we have an additional point of programming, marked on your leaflets as "magnificent surprise". I hope you will all find it as wonderful as I do," she added. "I will first explain, how this surprise came about. Several of you have already approached me and Johann, asking about our good friend Erik Dumesnil. I know that you all wish him back in our concert halls the sooner the better, but I must tell you, that he is currently out of town, handling some private business of his. It may take a while before he can return. He has not been able yet to give me an approximate date for his return. Well, since Monsieur Dumesnil is not able to be with us today and buy our goods to support our charity, he wanted to make a donation. He has sent us an unpublished song of his. We have a copy of that song here, for legibility reasons it had to be copied, so it's not his original handwriting, but it comes with a certificate of authenticity signed by my husband. We will auction off this song. But so that you know what you are bidding on, my goddaughter Gertraud von Reifenstein and her friend Christine de Chagny have graciously agreed to perform it for you."

The audience cheered. A new song by Dumesnil! That was indeed a magnificent surprise. The younger ladies swooned. If the song was anything like the ones they already knew, it was a winner. And Dumesnil was out of town? Where was he? A private business, Dora had said. Was he maybe… seeing _her_? And a new song? For _her_? That was beyond romantic! Now they knew why Regine had insisted on more pink for the decoration in recent weeks, this was about love!

Dora smiled. At her insistence, none of the other ladies knew the song had been donated by Erik, she and Gertraud's mother were the only ones that not only knew that Gertraud and Christine would be performing, but had heard the song and knew about its origin.

Raoul's head swam. Christine and Gertraud – performing a song? But… Christine had not been singing in years, not since… that day. Would she even be able to pull it off? Wouldn't she be terribly out of practice? And what on Earth could have convinced her to sing again? Would this not remind her of those terrible events shortly before they had gotten married?

He was still trying to wrap his mind around the thought of Christine singing again, when the curtain was pulled back, revealing the piano, and his wife and Gertraud walked up to it. Gertraud sat down on the piano bench and opened the copy of the song handwritten by Nadir. She looked up a Christine, who was standing next to the piano, silently asking if she was ready, and at Christine's barely perceptible nod, began to play.

Christine's eyes were fixated on a point in the far distance. She did not notice all the people around her, her mind was focused on her angel and their love. Unlike Gertraud she did not need the sheet music. She knew the song by heart.

"Who knows when love begins, who knows what makes it start," she began, smiling inwardly at the truth of these words. She could not say when exactly she had fallen in love with her angel – or he with her, for that matter. It had happened gradually. Their feelings had grown and deepened with time. Now it seemed as if she had always loved him, while a few weeks ago, she had not even realized that what she felt for him was love.

"Love never dies," Christine reached the refrain, imbuing it with the wealth of her emotions, making it sound like a promise, a vow of loving her angel forever. Some of the younger lades were fighting back tears. God, was that song beautiful! Dumesnil had outdone himself. How much he must love that woman, that for some reason he could not have. Each of them thought that they would gladly accept any suitor who wooed them with a song like that.

"Love lives on!" Christine finished the song. Roaring applause broke loose. While all the ladies in attendance were deeply moved by the romantic song, the men were more impressed by the two musicians. Who knew the French Defense Attaché's wife could sing like that? And little Gertraud von Reifenstein had acquitted herself well on the piano, too.

Christine and Gertraud looked at each other and smiled. "You were fantastic," Gertraud whispered. "I am sure he will hear about it. Dora certainly will tell him. It will make him very happy!" Christine beamed. "That was my intention," she whispered back.

Then they both waited with baited breath for the auction of the sheet music. Several gentlemen bid on it, but in the end Albrecht won with an incredibly high bid. "I want my Gertraud to keep this as a reminder of her and her friend's great success today," he explained, and handing the music to his wife, he added, "I hope the two of you will be performing this for me again, soon."

Gertraud and Christine soon found themselves surrounded by a huge crowd of admirers, everybody wishing to congratulate them on their great performance. Neither of them had expected this, they were totally unprepared, so they just nodded and smiled at everybody.

An elderly rather dark-skinned man finally made his way through the crowd surrounding Christine. "Madame de Chagny," he said, "allow me to congratulate you on your marvelous rendition of this song. My name is Nadir Khan, I am a friend of the composer's. When Erik first played the song to me, I was a bit skeptic. I mean, undying love? That exists only in fairytales." He looked her deep in the eyes and added, putting an emphasis on every word. "You convinced me. I now know he was right. I do believe in this unending love now, too."

Christine blushed as the deeper meaning of his words hit home. This man, Erik's friend, had not believed that she truly loved her angel, but now he did. Now he knew, and he would tell him. She wanted to thank Nadir, but the latter had already disappeared into the crowd.

Finally the excitement around Christine and Gertraud died down a bit, and Raoul finally approached his wife. He was unsure how to react. In a way he was proud of Christine, of her success. But he also was very nervous about the fact that she was singing again. In his opinion this could not be good for her. The mere thought of music always reminded him of the most terrible experience of his life, of the night he found himself tied to the portcullis, a rope around his neck, standing in the subterranean lake, freezing in the cold water. He did not want to be reminded of this dreadful day ever again. Surely, Christine must feel the same about this traumatic event? After all, she had been faced with the very real possibility of having to submit herself to that – thing, that inhuman, murderous, mad beast. Raoul's stomach threatened to lose its breakfast at the disgusting memory of Christine's lips actually…. How could she have found the strength to kiss that gargoyle?

To Raoul's surprise, Christine seemed serene, glowing with what was surely pride at her success. "Do you," Raoul began hesitantly. "I mean… was it hard for you to sing again?"

Christine shook her head. She noticed her husband's unease and knew she had to tread carefully. "At first I was not sure," she stated calmly. "I did not even know if I still could.. but it's for a good cause, and the song is so beautiful." She faced Raoul. "Don't you agree? It's about love and how it is eternal and nothing can ever kill it."

Raoul smiled. "She seems to relate to the song in a romantic way," he thought. "She sees a parallel between our love and the one described in those lyrics. In a way, she is still a child at heart." Aloud he asked, "but what about singing itself. The experience of it. Did it not remind you…" his voice trailed.

Christine sighed. Of course it reminded her of her former teacher, her angel, the man Erik, who had taken her heart with him. She closed her eyes to clear her mind, then uttered, "I guess I love to sing. Remember, I used to sing to my father's violin, when we were children. Music has always been around me, with me, an important part of my life. I guess I had somewhat missed it. Singing today was exhilarating, liberating. I am glad I agreed to do it. And wasn't Gertraud marvelous on the piano?" She changed the topic.

Raoul sensed that there was something she was not saying, and he had an idea what it might be. "How did they know you could sing?" he asked. "You did not tell them, that you… your maiden name…?"

Christine smiled. "No, Raoul, of course not. It was just, Gertraud and I talked about music one day, seeing that she plays the piano and her godmother is the wife of the music publisher Lüders, so I told her that my father had been a master of the violin and I used to sing to his playing. So when her godmother got this song from their composer client, Gertraud asked me if I would be willing to sing it, and it was simply too beautiful a song to pass up on the opportunity to perform it."

She gave Raoul a pleading look. "Don't be mad at me, Raoul, for singing," she asked. "I know you do not want me to, but maybe it's time I faced the ghosts of the past. That we do that. I know you used to like music, too. Why can't we put the past behind us and start enjoying music again?"


	18. Aftermath

Hi everybody! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas! Thank you all for your continued support, and hopefully you will continue to read, review, etc. in the upcoming new year.

And while Santa brought me several cool things, the rights to POTO were not among them, therefore I still dont own anything or anybody. Sorry!

Chapter 18 - Aftermath

Erik was nervously pacing to and from in front of his piano. He knew it had been the right decision to avoid the bazaar and send Nadir there instead, yet he wished he could have found a way to attend the event himself. He had considered it for a while, thinking of possible disguises, but with the Vicomte in attendance, it had ultimately seemed too risky.

Erik nervously bit his lip. Would Christine sing his song? While he was fairly certain that she would love his gift and want nothing more than to perform it in public, he also knew that her…. that boy of hers did not want her to sing. What if she did not want to annoy that man? After all, she was forced to live with de Chagny and therefore it might seem like a good idea not to anger him. But if she did sing…. Erik sighed. What wouldn't he give to be able to attend her performance, to listen to her interpretation of his song! His Christine not only possessed the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, she also used to live the music, to fully convey the emotions and feelings expressed by the lyrics and the melody of any given song or aria. How utterly breathtaking her rendition of his musical declaration of love would sound! And what a pity that he could not be there and listen.

Erik heard the front door going, which meant Nadir was finally back. He tried to relax. Only a few more instants and he would know how his beloved had faired at the bazaar.

The door of the parlor opened and Nadir stood there, looking at Erik. There was something in his friend's eyes that Erik could not quite identify. Nadir seemed deeply moved – and sorry?

"And?" Erik asked nervously. "Spit it out, Nadir! What happened? Did she…?" Erik did not dare finish the question. Somehow he did not want to know the answer if she had not sung.

"Yes." Nadir's voice was heavy with emotion. "She did sing, Erik. It was unearthly, heavenly, sublime. Her voice… I have never heard anything even remotely like her voice. Sweet, pure, crystal-clear, strong, flexible, with an impressive upper register, in short, perfection incarnate. She is indeed incredibly talented and you have taught her well. But the marvelous sound of her voice was nothing compared to her interpretation. She imbued the song with life, she made us feel the emotions." Nadir looked at Erik and smiled. "It was as if she did not notice any of us, as if she were in her own little bubble, her own world, promising that her love would never die."

Nadir fidgeted, embarrassed. "I have to admit that when you told me that she does return your love, I had my doubts. I thought, maybe this was wishful thinking on your part." He shook his head. "I was wrong, Erik. She does indeed love you. It was so obvious that she was thinking of you while singing, and that she meant the song as a vow to you, swearing her eternal love."

Nadir sighed. He looked aside, fighting back tears, while squeezing Erik's shoulder. "I m sorry," he whispered. "For both of you. I wish I could help you both, but the way things are, I see no solution."

Erik's face fell. When Nadir had described Christine's performance, he had been full of pride and love, but his friend's last words had brought him back to reality and reminded him of their predicament.

"I know," he groaned. "It is hopeless. Christine and I have already looked at it from every possible angle. It is too late now. We had our chance and screwed it up. Now we must live with the consequences."

Nadir nodded. He felt sorry for his friend and the young Vicomtesse. In his opinion, fate had not been kind to these two. Though it was true that they had made a few mistakes, he thought it was rather unfair that they had to pay for them with lifelong separation. Neither of them had been in a position to handle their blooming attraction. Erik had been denied love and affection for most of his life and therefore had been at a complete loss how to properly court her and how to develop a romantic relationship, and Christine… she must have been barely more than a child at that point. How old had she been when Erik had revealed himself to her? Fifteen, sixteen? Certainly not older than that. She still looked so very young, young and fragile. Was she even twenty yet? She certainly did not look it.

"Did you see…," Erik's voice interrupted Nadir's musings. "The boy. Was he there?"

Nadir nodded. "Yes, de Chagny was there." He did not add that he had foreseen this and that it therefore would have been way too dangerous for Erik to go there, even in disguise.

"Did he…," Erik began again. "I mean, did he seem to suspect anything? Was he angry at her for singing?"

Nadir thought about it for a while. "He seemed speechless," he explained then. "He most definitely had not known that she would be singing. She took him by surprise. He paled and started to fidget nervously when Dora announced the song. He definitely was uncomfortable with her singing, though in a way, he also enjoyed her success. I am not sure, but I don't think he has an idea that Erik Dumesnil is you. And even if he enquires about the composer, he will learn that hundreds of people have seen you perform at the concert hall and nobody will mention a mask… I also do not think that he understands enough about music to recognize your style in that particular song. So I guess the only reason for him to be slightly annoyed could be because she ignored his wish for her not to sing. Since it was a charity event and she will be able to claim she did it for a good cause, he won't be able to hold it against her. Don't worry about her, Erik. She should not be in any trouble."

Xxxx

Gertraud observed from the corner of her eye as Raoul approached Christine after their admirers had begun to dissipate. To judge from his body language, it was clear to her that despite the huge success of their performance the Vicomte was not entirely happy with the fact that his wife had been singing. Christine's obvious enjoyment of music did not really help and might just make him even more furious. Gertraud therefore decided it was high time to diffuse the French officer's bad mood.

"Oh, Monsieur de Chagny," she therefore cooed to Raoul, joining the couple. "Wasn't Christine utterly amazing?" She stressed the word "amazing" in a way that Raoul had no other option than to nod in agreement. Gertraud beamed. Her strategy was working. "And to imagine that she did not want to sing at first!" she exclaimed. "It was such an effort to convince her that she simply had to do it! We would never have raised that much money for the song if it had been performed by a lesser singer, no matter who wrote it."

Raoul smirked. "I doubt your husband will be too happy that you enlisted my wife to help you make him pay more for the sheet music," he reminded her sourly.

Gertraud smiled. "Oh, Albrecht won't mind. He always donates lots of money to this charity. And I guess he is proud that I was a part of this wonderful surprise, even though I pale in comparison to your wife. Aren't you proud of Christine, Monsieur?" she asked innocently.

Raoul felt cornered. "Yes, well, I guess so," he stammered. "It is just that some of our worst memories are connected with music, and I do not want to remind Christine too much of these events. I want to protect my wife, you see?"

Gertraud nodded. "That is very commendable of you," she admitted, "and I am sorry if I acted against your wishes, but if you want to blame somebody for this performance, it has to be me. I persuaded Christine to sing. She resisted at first and it was not easy to convince her. She wanted to honor your wishes. It was me that reminded her of her duties towards our cause."

"Please, Raoul," Christine chimed in. "If you don't want me to sing again, I won't. But it really was not traumatic at all. Music is no danger to me. Music is in my blood, the heritage of my dear papa. I did not realize it before, but now that I have sung again, I know that I have missed music. Please consider this. I would love to sing a bit every now and then, and think about the children. As my daughters and my papa's granddaughters they probably would enjoy it as well."

Gertraud observed the couple. It was obvious that de Chagny was torn. He did not want to grant his wife permission to sing, but he also seemed unable to resist her pleas. "He's jealous, all right," she thought. "Even though he does not know that her former teacher and Dumesnil are one person, he somehow fears that he will lose her when he allows her to pursue music. I bet he knows that it's not him she loves, but Dumesnil. I bet he has always known and fears the day she may realize it."

Raoul finally relented. He was not going to cause a scene right here at the bazaar, especially not since everybody was so pleased with Christine's performance. "We will discuss this later," he informed Christine, offering her his arm. He had to admit that it did indeed feel good to have the acclaimed performer clinging to him and to be envied by all the other men present.

Xxxxx

"Dear Antoinette,

I am at the same time the happiest and unhappiest man on this planet. The happiest, because I finally do possess Christine's heart. She does love me after all, face and all, the way I want to be loved, but alas! Her realization that it is me she wants came years too late. As you know, she is not free to follow her heart anymore. I had to let her go once again, only this time I know that it is breaking her heart as well. But there is no other way, not unless I want to put her and her two little girls at risk.

Losing her is bad enough, as you can well imagine, but knowing that she is as devastated about the situation as I am, is what makes me truly miserable. The Vicomte does not know that Christine and I met here in Berlin and what has happened between us, which is for the best. At least he won't bother her with his jealousy. Christine is planning to try and convince him that she wants to return to France. I do not know when this will happen, but once she is home, she will need a motherly friend, a person she can confide in. Please, Antoinette, promise me that you will be there for her then, that you will help her endure this separation that fate has forced unto us. Be a real mother to her and shower her with the love I cannot give her.

Erik"

Madame Giry wiped tears from her eyes when she had finished reading Erik's letter. This was the first message she had received from either of her two protégés since the two Christmas cards that had made her fear the worst. Truth be told, she had expected something different. While there had been a time when she had hoped that Erik and Christine might eventually end up together, after Christine's panicked reaction to Buquet's death she had buried that hope. She had not believed that Christine would ever be able to get over this, and Erik's actions in the aftermath of "Il Muto" had only made things worse. His appearance at the Masquerade, for instance, or the fact that he had attacked the Opéra's coachman so that he could take Christine to her father's grave himself. But if she was to believe what Erik wrote to her, then Christine had finally put all these things behind her and learned to see the good in her "Angel of Music".

"Maybe I was right after all," she thought. "Maybe she did love him, but was too scared to admit it to herself. Maybe seeing him again has made her realize her true feelings for him." She felt stupid now for having supported the Vicomte's courtship of her surrogate daughter. "What if Christine simply was too young and immature to deal with the situation?" she thought. "What if Christine and Erik would only have needed time to sort out their problems? Time that thanks to the Vicomte's interference they did not have? What if it was not really Erik that Christine was scared of, but her own feelings?"

Her heart went out to her two protégés. She missed both of them terribly and she wished she could be there for them both and help them carry on despite the rough card that fate had dealt them. Erik, her poor, misunderstood foster brother, the genius that had to hide from the world most of his life, who had finally found love and lost it at the same time. How much he would need a loving wife by his side, a family. How he deserved these same things that any other, normal, man could have. She remembered how well he had handled Christine when she was still a little girl. "There is so much love in him, he has so much to offer," she thought. "I bet he would be the most attentive husband and most loving father."

Then she thought of Christine. Unlike Erik she was not alone, but was she truly better off? Was it better to live with a man who was second-best, knowing that your true love was leading a lonely, miserable life? How would she handle that new development? Would she feel trapped as Raoul's wife? Would she resent her husband for not being Erik or would she be able to keep up the semblance of a happily married wife and mother?

The Vicomte did not suspect anything, Erik had written. But was that true? Was Christine really that good an actress that she could fool him? And for how long? Wouldn't he sooner or later realize that her attitude towards him had changed? Was their marriage doomed?

"I meant well," she thought, "when I told de Chagny about Erik's past, and when I showed him the way to Erik's lair. But it seems that the outcome is the opposite of what I had hoped for. I wanted Christine to be safe and happy, and it seems I have been instrumental in making her unhappy and in causing her marriage to fall apart, and on top of it all, I have destroyed her and Erik's chance at a life together, a life filled with love and music…"

When Meg came home an hour later, she found her mother in tears, fighting very hard to compose herself, but failing miserably. "Maman," she exclaimed in alarm. "What is the matter? Has something happened?"

Mme. Gity handed her Erik's letter, unable to speak. Meg quickly read the few lines, then gasped. "Christine and … the Phantom?" she asked. When had that happened? And how? Meg had never really met Erik, though she knew that there was a connection between him and her mother. But most of what she knew now - which was not much - she had learned from her mother only after the fire. She was now aware of the fact that he had been Christine's mysterious voice coach, her "Angel of Music", and while there had been times when she had wondered if her friend had maybe romantic fantasies about this "Angel", she could not wrap her mind around the idea that Christine could actually love him, once she knew his true identity. The man was a killer, extortionist, a criminal, not to mention the fact that he was severely deformed and ugly as sin – and about twice Christine's age.

As Mme. Giry nodded, Meg continued, "how can she love such a man? Pity him, maybe, but love? A criminal? A deformed freak?"

"Erik is no freak," Mme. Giry defended her foster brother. "And despite all he has done, he has a kind, loving heart. It's not his fault that he was born with only half a face, yet his mother and the whole world made him pay for it. He has endured more abuse and violence than most other men put together. Yes, he has committed some atrocities, but mostly because he treated others the same way he had been treated, the only way he knew. He would have needed love and understanding, but most people withheld that from him. I understood too late how much he would have needed me, an older sister's guidance, and obviously Christine only realized the true nature of her feelings for him now, that it is too late as well."

She sighed. "Meg, I cannot even begin to tell you, how sorry I am for these two, that they cannot be together despite their love, and how guilty I feel for having played destiny and allowed the Vicomte to come between them." And sobbing, she finally told Meg everything, including her own involvement in the events four years ago, and the fact that she had hidden Erik after the fire and had helped him escape with the aid of his friend Nadir.

Meg was shocked. Even though her mother had told her a few snippets after the fire, she finally heard Erik's story for the first time. She now understood that he was not entirely responsible for his actions that he was handling things the only way he knew: with violence.

"Poor Erik," she finally whispered. "He probably would have been a different person if he had been treated with love."

Her mother nodded. "Yes, and I failed him in that regard, and so did Christine four years ago. Nadir Khan seems to have done a reasonably good job, though, since under his guidance Erik has become a famous composer and pianist. And Christine has realized her mistake, too, but too late. Now he will suffer again."

Meg hugged her. "Read that letter again, mother," she said. "I think this love is a blessing for him nevertheless. He is more worried about Christine. I think you will help him best by being there for Christine, once she will be home." Now that she knew everything about this man, she was surprised at the fact that he was even capable of love. But a love that was so strong and deep that he could let his beloved go, because it was the right thing to do…. Maybe it was not such a big surprise after all, that Christine not only appreciated such love but had learned to return it, despite the Phantom's crimes and face.


	19. Home

Hi everybody! I hope you had wonderful holidays and the New Year 2013 will be a good one for you! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting or adding to your favorites. Your support is what keeps me going and gives me always new ideas for my stories. I know you are all waiting for the reunion, and it will eventually happen, just hang in there!

Anyway, on to the new hapter, and keep in mind that POTO still belongs to people other than me, so I don't own anything or anybody...

Chapter 19 - Home

In the safety of their own home, Raoul de Chagny finally confronted his wife. "Is that why you have been so excited about the bazaar?" he asked. "Because it gave you an excuse to sing?"

Christine's mind was racing. She did not want to lie, and she knew she was not good at it anyway, but this was close enough to the truth that she thought she might be able to pull it off. "I told you before that I love singing," she said softly.

Raoul groaned. "Christine, I only have your best interest at heart," he said. "Do you not realize that I want to keep you safe, as far away as possible from anything that could bring back memories of that traumatic night when the Opéra Populaire burnt down?"

Christine looked down. She could not face Raoul for fear he might see her true feelings about that night clearly written on her features. When she thought back to that night now, all she could feel was regret. Regret that she had not stayed with her Angel and truly become his wife.

"I know that you want to protect me," Christine finally said. "But, you see, music is not necessarily connected to these events. The first thing that comes to mind when I sing are memories of my dear papa playing the violin and me singing along." She bit her lip. While not completely untrue, that statement was not entirely true either.

"So you are trying to tell me that when you are singing, you are not thinking of….," Raoul barely contained his anger. He had wanted to say "that murderous beast", but thought better of it at the very last moment. "Him," he finished the sentence.

Christine closed her eyes. "He is gone from our lives, Raoul," she avoided a direct answer. "He won't… we don't have to fear him anymore."

Raoul was too agitated himself to notice the undertone of sadness in his wife's voice. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.

"He has not bothered us since that night," Christine reminded her husband. "Surely if he wanted to do so, he would have done so long ago?"

Raoul knew that he was losing the argument. Truth be told, nobody had ever seen the Opera Ghost again after the night of the fire and common opinion was that the beast had perished in the flames. For some reason he had never told Christine and he did not think it would be a particularly good idea to discuss the monster's very likely demise now.

"I only want what's best for you, Christine," he relented. "And deep down I have this feeling as if singing could cause you pain. Please promise me, you won't do it again."

Christine sighed. She had hoped that after her success at the bazaar Raoul would change his mind about her singing, but apparently this was not going to happen. "I won't," she whispered, adding in her thoughts, "at least not in public." For she most certainly would sing with Gertraud, when they would be alone.

Raoul beamed. Christine was such a good, obedient wife. "My reasonable darling," he cooed, lowering his lips to hers. Automatically, Christine opened her mouth, accepting his kiss more than returning it and inwardly thanking God that at least for the time being she would not have to endure Raoul's love-making.

Xxxxx

A few days passed, and Christine remained subdued. Being denied to sing felt like being completely cut off from her Angel, even the last connection between them severed. Gertraud was shocked when she heard that Raoul had renewed his request for Christine not to sing. "Does he even realize what a gift your voice is?" she asked Christine. "I had hoped we could sing together soon at my next soirée. Letting such talent go to waste is a crime!"

Christine sighed. She was just as unhappy about Raoul's decision as Gertraud, yet she felt like she had to defend her husband. "He thinks it's best for me to forget," she tried to explain her husband's attitude. "There were some ugly scenes between him and Erik during our courtship, and Raoul hopes that if I give up music I won't constantly be reminded of my former teacher and all that transpired four years ago."

Gertraud almost voiced her suspicion that Raoul knew pretty well that Christine's heart belonged to his rival, that he had known it long before she herself realized it but bound her to him nevertheless. Then she thought better of it. Under the current circumstances it was probably hard enough for Christine to live with her husband, even without having to consider the possibility that he had deliberately, knowingly come between her and her true love.

"Still, it's such a shame," Gertraud exclaimed, exacerbated. "After our performance at the bazaar, we could have performed at every musical soirée in town. Truth be told, we will be hard pressed to come up with excuses if we don't…"

Christine's eyes lit up. For quite a while she had been looking for a plausible reason why she suddenly wanted to leave Berlin and had come up with nothing, but Gertraud's words had given her an idea. "That's it, Gertraud," she exclaimed. "That's the reason why I have to go home. I will tell Raoul that you and some others keep bothering me, asking me to sing at this or that event, that I do not want to break my promise to him, but that it's getting increasingly different to say no. That the only solution to my dilemma I can think of is to leave Berlin as soon as possible. When you see Raoul, just bring this up, so that he can see that I am not imagining things. That way, I hope, we will be able to leave in a few weeks and Erik can return to his career."

Gertraud sighed. "So it is true that you want to leave?" she asked.

Christine nodded. "Yes," she stated. "I have to. Erik's life is here now. I can't take that away from him. We can't both stay here, therefore it's me that has to leave."

Gertraud hugged her. "I know," she said. "I just wish you could stay. I really do like you, and I will miss you, once you are gone."

Xxxx

The next couple of weeks, Christine and Gertraud acted out their scheme. Christine kept telling Raoul about requests to perform that she had declined using this or that excuse, while every time Gertraud met Raoul, she excitedly mentioned plans for musical events that involved her and Christine.

At first Raoul thought the ladies were trying to make him rethink his position and allow Christine to sing, and he got angry, but Christine kept repeating that she understood how important it was for him that she did not sing, and when after a while she shyly suggested to leave Berlin and go home in order to avoid similar future requests, Raoul was pleased with her obedience.

He loved his work at the embassy, but he also missed his home in Brittany. Christine seemed recovered from her depression, although the tension between her friends begging her to sing and her husband refusing her to do so, was obviously beginning to take its toll on her again. So maybe, the best course of action was to hand in his resignation and take his family home. Of course he would have to retire from the Navy as well, since he had told Christine something about having to sail out again if he did not take the job in Berlin, but truth be told, he was more eager to return home anyway and take care of his estates in France again than to resume his duties in the Navy.

At the beginning of summer, everything was settled and the de Chagny family was getting ready to return to France. Gertraud accompanied them to the train station. "Write soon," she told Christine. "I promise to do the same, and maybe Albrecht and I can visit you later this year!"

Christine hugged her. "I hope you'll write soon," she said, "and I am looking forward to your visit."

Raoul stood by, slightly annoyed with this overemotional display of affection. Little did he know that the ladies' conversation held a secret message. Gertraud promised to keep Christine updated on Erik's activities and career – for that purpose Christine had also given her Mme. Giry's address. Letters about him would be sent there, so that they could not fall into Raoul's hands. And when Gertraud would come for a visit, she would personally carry Christine's copy of Erik's song, and hand it to Mme. Giry for safekeeping. Christine definitely needed this last gift of her Angel within reach, but did not dare carry it herself or store it in her own home. Once it would be with the former ballet mistress though, she would be able to hold it, look at it, read the words and the music he had written for her every time she visited her surrogate mother.

Xxxxx

To Raoul's surprise, once they were underway, Christine expressed a desire to stay a few days in Paris before returning to their home in the countryside. He was not too thrilled with this idea, since in his opinion, just like singing, this particular city was too closely connected to a certain night he wished he could forget.

"Do you think it wise to return to Paris after all we've been through there?" he asked his wife. "Will the city not awake most unpleasant memories? Are you sure you feel up to it seeing all those places again that must remind you of the time when you were in the clutches of … you know who?"

Christine nodded. "So much time has passed since then," she stated calmly. "And I bet a lot has changed in the meantime. I am sure we won't even recognize half the places we used to frequent. But I truly want to do a few things before we go home. I need to visit my father's grave and maybe take the children there as well. They've never been there. And I do want to meet Meg and Mme. Giry. It has been ages since I last saw them. They are the closest thing to family I have and they haven't even seen Isabelle yet, and the last time they saw Amélie, she was just starting to walk."

Raoul sighed. "We can invite them to our estate, they can visit us for a few weeks, Christine. If you want to see your friends it does not mean you have to stay in Paris."

Christine remained adamant. "It may be weeks before Meg can get some time off her job," she reminded her husband, "and you know pretty well that Mme. Giry won't come visit us without her. And it's really been too long already. Meg and I used to be inseparable and Mme. Giry – I saw her every day as well. I guess when we first moved to Brittany, it was all so new and exciting, and then Amélie arrived and later Isabelle, I must have been too busy, too overwhelmed with it all to realize how much I missed them, but now, that thanks to Gertraud I have gotten used again to having a female friend with whom to discuss all the mundane little things that men have no interest in, I want to get these two back into my life." She looked her husband into the eyes. "I have missed them," she added softly.

Raoul would have preferred to travel on immediately from Paris to the estate in Brittany. Somehow he was convinced that his Little Lotte would be surrounded by unimaginable horrors, at risk at every moment of every day, if she were to live in Paris for a while, but he could not deny her the innocent pleasure of meeting with the woman who had practically raised her and with Meg, who was like a sister to her, so he finally relented and promised Christine that they would stay in Paris for a few days.

From the next station he therefore sent a telegram to the housekeeper of his manor in Paris, ordering her to prepare everything for the imminent arrival of himself and his family, and Christine informed Mme. Giry that she would be in Paris for a few days and would stop by for a visit.

Therefore, at their arrival in Paris, the de Chagny carriage was waiting for them at the train station, and once they reached their home, Christine found a note from the Girys, telling her that they were expecting to see her the next afternoon.

Raoul offered to take his wife and daughters to the Girys, since he had some business in the area anyway. He wanted to talk to his banker and to meet his lawyer to discuss the terms of a contract of purchase for a field adjacent to his grounds in Brittany. "It will take me at least three hours to handle all this," he informed Christine. "Then I will pick up my three beautiful ladies and we can have dinner together. Does that give you enough time with your friends?"

Christine nodded, inwardly thanking God that Raoul trusted Mme. Giry and considered her his ally, since she had shown him the way to Erik's home all those years ago. Otherwise he probably would not have allowed Christine to visit her friends at all.

Xxxx

The next afternoon, Raoul dropped off his family at the Girys' home, then continued to his business appointments. Mme. Giry was overjoyed to see her surrogate daughter and immediately fell in love with the adorable little girls. She had been in charge of the ballet rats for so long, and now it had already been several years since the fire at the Opéra Populaire which had lead to her slightly premature retirement. Seeing Amélie and Isabelle made her realize how much she had missed the happy chatter of young voices.

"You must bring them over more often, Christine," she told her protégée. "I hope you will be staying in Paris more frequently now?"

Christine did not quite know what to say, but fortunately, Meg's timely arrival interrupted the conversation. "Christine!" Meg squealed happily, hugging her friend. "It's so good to see you, it's definitely been too long. Are those your daughters? Hello, little ones, I am your aunt Meg, your mother's best friend…"

Christine smiled. She suddenly knew why she had connected with Gertraud so easily. The young German baroness had a lot in common with Meg. Both were bubbly and loved to talk.

"Meg, why don't you take the two young ladies out and show them the garden?" Mme. Giry interrupted her daughter's verbal onslaught. "That way the three of you can get acquainted…."

Meg nodded. She understood immediately that her mother wanted to talk to Christine, ask her about him, the Phantom, Erik. Meg turned to the two little Vicomtesses. "Amélie, Isabelle," she said, "there is a beautiful garden outside, with lots of old trees and pretty flowers, I will show you everything, and we can play a bit!"

Amélie looked at her mother hesitantly. Christine smiled at her. "Go ahead, darling," she encouraged her daughter, "I know you do not remember auntie Meg, but she loves you both very much and wants to make friends with you the same way she is friends with me." Amélie nodded and followed Meg outside, who was carrying little Isabelle who was still a bit wobbly on her feet and tired easily.

Once they were alone, Mme. Giry pulled out the letter she had received from Erik and held it out to Christine. "Is he right?" she asked nervously, "do you…?"

Christine glanced briefly at the letter, then nodded. "Yes," she whispered, "I do love him. I think I always did, but I was too confused to understand and thus…" She paused, fighting back tears.

Mme. Giry put an arm around her. "It is okay for you to cry," she said softly. "You cannot keep it all bottled up indefinitely, and I guess at home, around your husband, you always have to pretend that you are happy."

Christine nodded sobbing, and Mme. Giry lead her to a sofa and sat down next to her. After a few minutes Christine calmed down enough that she could tell her foster mother what had happened between her and Erik in Berlin. Mme. Giry giggled when Christine mentioned that most women in Berlin were drooling over the oh-so-romantic Erik Dumesnil, she was fascinated when Christine described Erik's new mask that under artificial light was only noticeable when one was looking for it, she was impressed with how Erik had found a way to teach Christine again and deeply touched when she heard about the songs he had written for Christine, especially the latest one.

"Gertraud promised to visit soon," Christine ended her confession. "Once she is in France, I will bring her here and introduce you to her. She will bring me the song and I will ask you to keep it safe for me. You know that I cannot take it home with me…"

Mme. Giry hugged Christine. "Of course," she promised, "and I will keep all the letters she sends to you through me, and I will always let you know when there is one waiting for you. Then you just have to find an excuse to come to Paris and visit."

Christine smiled. Talking to Mme. Giry had helped her a lot. "Since the current stay in Paris is not causing me nightmares or other harm, I guess it won't be too hard to convince Raoul to let me come here more often," Christine hoped. "Especially, since he has many business partners here that he has to talk to fairly regularly, which is easier to do in person than via letters. I am fairly certain we will be coming here often."

Mme. Giry returned the smile. She was looking forward to seeing Christine and her family on a regular basis. Then she turned serious. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I should not have interfered way back when. I meant well, but I am responsible for your and Erik's dilemma. If I hadn't shown the Vicomte the way, you and Erik could be together now… How can the two of you ever forgive me?"

Christine squeezed her foster mother's hand. "Don't blame yourself," she said. "You did what you thought was best for me, just like Erik did, when he sent me away. And I left when he told me to. We all made mistakes that night, and Erik and I now have to bear the consequences. It simply was not meant to be. It was nobody's fault. Neither of you could have known then what I did not even know myself, namely that my Angel is the center of my world, my pillar of strength, and the keeper of my heart."


	20. Separation

You almost would have had to wait till tomorrow for this update, but then I decided to finis it right away. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, putting on alert or adding to favorites, and a heartfelt welcome to my new readers! Your support is what keeps me going. Thank you!

trrmo77, don't worry. Our Erik is not a decrepit old geezer yet. There will be plenty of time for happiness, once they will reach that point. And You Are Love, it seems that Erik shares your concern about Christine's bed chamber, especially since he does not know about the current seeping arrangements..

Anyway, here is the new chapter, and I still don't own anything...

Chapter 20 - Separation

Ever since that afternoon, when he realized that Christine did love him after all, when he had held her in his arms and kissed her, dreaming of a bright future, filled with songs and music and laughter, that brief moment of happiness, which ultimately had lead to yet another separation, Erik was constantly on the brink of falling back into depression again. Writing the song for her had distracted him from their problem for a while, but he was subject to mood swings more than ever before, going from deliriously happy to deeply depressed within hours. Over the weeks a few more songs followed, but they were uneven in tone, depending on Erik's current mood, some enthusiastic, jubilant, when he remembered the joy he had felt with Christine in his arms, some melancholic and sad, when he considered the very likely possibility of never seeing her again.

As much as Erik tried to deal with having lost Christine again, he was not quite able to accept the situation. He slept very little and lost his appetite.

After a few weeks Nadir noticed that his friend was losing weight and started to worry. "Erik I know this is difficult for you," he tried to comfort the younger man, "but think of Christine. What would she say if she saw you now? It is obvious that you are not eating nearly enough and I know you barely sleep. Do you think she would approve of the way you are risking your health right now? I am fairly certain that she would be appalled if she knew how poorly you take care of yourself."

Erik groaned. "You have no idea what it's like, daroga," he said. "Every night I lie awake, thinking of…" He winced. "My mind is assaulted with pictures of her in this boy's arms, submitting to his desires…"

"That must be hard for you, Erik," Nadir admitted, "but jealousy is not a healthy feeling. You envy him because he has what you want to have."

Erik shook his head. "Yes, I would love to be in his place," he explained, "but that's not the issue. It's Christine. How can she endure him when it is me she loves? Such an intimate act requires love or it will feel … forced…."

Nadir sighed. "I see two problems here," he stated. "First, Christine. Erik, don't blow this out of proportion. She does care for her husband or she would not have married him. At one point she may even have thought that she loved him. My guess is that she loves him like a brother since they grew up together. Because of this connection between them, intimate relations with her husband may not seem too wrong to her. Also, they have done it before, so this is a familiar situation for her. Just because she now realizes that she loves you more than him does not mean that her relationship with de Chagny must necessarily become awkward. And if she truly suddenly can't bear the thought anymore of him making love to her, then I am fairly certain she will be able to do what she did when she was singing your song at that bazaar, lock herself off into her own little world and think of you." He paused, giving Erik a reassuring smile. "Why do you think she is not secretly imagining it is you every time that he… well, you know…" Nadir's voice trailed.

"The second problem is your jealousy of her husband. But if you ask me," Nadir continued softly, "it is the Vicomte, not you, who got the short end of the stick. He may have Christine's body, but her heart and soul are yours. It is a pity that you could not see her at the bazaar, hear her sing your song. It might have put your mind at rest, for there was no doubt whatsoever that in her thoughts she is with you. Always. There is a part of her he can never reach and that belongs to you."

Erik nodded. He was not quite convinced, but he understood what Nadir was trying to convey. From that day on he made an effort to eat regularly and it was easier for him to rest.

Xxxxx

The day after Christine and her family left Berlin, Gertraud went to see her godmother Dora Lüders. She talked about this and that for a few minutes, then mentioned how upset she was about her friend's departure. "It's because her husband does not want her to sing," Gertraud complained. "She is marvelous, and after the bazaar we got offers to perform at afternoon teas and musical soirées, but he more or less forbade her to do so. He must be totally tone-deaf and a downright music-hater!"

Gertraud faced her godmother. "Monsieur Dumesnil will be so disappointed to hear that she is gone," she added. "Christine was his prize student. I doubt he would have continued our music lessons for as long as he did, if it hadn't been for her. She made such progress under his guidance, if you ask me, she would be good enough for the stage. Me, on the contrary…" she smiled. "Well, I guess the simple folksongs he taught me are not sounding half-bad when I sing them now, and I am eternally grateful to him for his lessons, but I have a feeling he won't be too eager to teach just me…"

Dora Lüders had to laugh. "I don't think this is an immediate problem, though," she told Gertraud. "Since our star composer is out of town until further notice. Who knows when he will return?"

Gertraud nodded. "You are of course right," she admitted. "I just thought, maybe it might be a good idea to give him a warning, so that he can get used to the idea of having lost his best student, and has time to think about whether or not he will continue to teach me…."

Dora looked up. She knew her goddaughter. She was therefore convinced that Gertraud had deliberately steered the conversation towards Erik Dumesnil. It was fairly obvious that the whole talk about the singing lessons had served the sole purpose of convincing her to inform Erik about the fact that Madame de Chagny had left Berlin with her family, since her husband was not at all pleased with her performance at the bazaar and did not want her to sing at other events. But why was it so important to give him that piece of information, and why had Gertraud chosen this subterfuge instead of directly asking her to talk to Erik?

"Gertraud, I do not know why you think he needs to get this information as soon as possible," she finally said, "but I know you well enough to be certain that you know what you are doing. I do not have Erik Dumesnil's current address, but Nadir Khan will know how to contact him. Since it is so important, I'll go over to their place and talk to him. Happy now?"

Gertraud smiled. "Thank you," she whispered. "And please don't tell anybody that I asked you to do this. I would explain it to you if I could, but it's not my secret."

Dora squeezed her shoulder. "You can count on me. Now, I do not want to be impolite, but unless this can wait till tomorrow, I'd better get going, which means you have to cut your visit short…"

"I am on my way out," Gertraud laughed. "My mission here is accomplished…"

Xxxx

Half an hour later, Darius announced that Madame Lüders wanted to talk to Nadir in an urgent matter. Nadir and Erik looked at each other, then Erik shrugged. "I'd better go to my room," he said, "since I am officially out of town. You can talk to her and see what she wants, it's probably something business-related. If it is a message for me from her husband, you can tell me later."

Nadir nodded. "Go, Erik," he agreed, "I'll handle Dora."

Moments after Erik had left the room, Darius showed Dora in. "It is a pleasure meeting you, Madame," Nadir greeted her politely. "I take it this is not a social visit?" Dora had been to their home before, but never alone, always in the company of her husband, and it was definitely a bit risqué for her to visit an all-male household without a chaperone.

"Monsieur Khan, I am only here for a few minutes," Dora interrupted him. "My goddaughter, Madame von Reifenstein, has convinced me that for some reason or other it might be important for Erik to know that her friend, Madame de Chagny, whom he has been teaching together with her, has left Berlin with her family. They returned to France, because Monsieur de Chagny was unhappy with the attention her singing at the bazaar has caused or some such nonsense. Now I have not the faintest idea why Erik would need to know that as soon as possible, but could you please make sure he gets that message?"

Nadir nodded This was indeed important. It meant that the Vicomte was gone and Erik would therefore once again be comparatively safe in Berlin. "I will inform him of their departure," he promised. "By the way, I just got message that his business has been resolved, he will be back in Berlin in a few days. He will get in touch with your husband then to discuss their future cooperation."

Dora thanked him and left quickly, making sure that she was not seen exiting the building. Even though her visit had been completely harmless, it would give rise to all sorts of annoying gossip if it were known that she had met with Nadir at his home without some kind of a chaperone.

The moment Dora had left, Nadir went to look for Erik. He was not quite sure how his friend would take the news. "Erik, I just learned from Dora that de Chagny and his family have left Berlin and returned to France," he announced.

Erik groaned. "Gone," he sighed. "Once again she is so far away, out of my reach…"

Nadir patted him on the shoulder. "I know this is hard for you," he tried to comfort his friend, "but I think it's for the best. Maybe now, that the separation is complete, you both can try to find some peace. Most importantly, you can move around Berlin more freely again, without having to fear running into the Vicomte and being recognized by him. I already told Dora that you will be returning to Berlin within the next few days and talk to Johann soon. After all, you have written a few new songs that he might want to publish…"

Erik nodded absentmindedly. "Of course," he said, while his heart was breaking at the thought that his Christine was now so far away again and therefore his chances of ever seeing her again had just drastically diminished. Then he closed his eyes. "Antoinette," he whispered, "I hope she will keep me posted on how Christine is doing…"

Nadir nodded. "I am sure she will do that," he reassured Erik. "The good Madame cares for you a lot and I am also certain, that she will do her best to comfort Christine. But, Erik," he continued, "there is something else. Dora says her goddaughter told her about the de Chagnys' departure and asked her to make sure you'd get that message. How much do you think this Madame von Reifenstein knows? What did Christine tell her? For I am certain that Christine must have enlisted her friend's help to let you know that they are gone and the streets of Berlin are therefore safe for you again. And the most important question, can we trust her?"

"I will write to Antoinette," Erik decided. "Maybe she can discuss this with Christine and find out what she told Gertraud von Reifenstein, so that I am prepared next time I meet Dora's goddaughter."

Xxxx

After a week in Paris, which to Raoul's surprise passed uneventful and did not seem to cause Christine any nightmares, the de Chagny family returned to their home in Brittany. Mme. Giry and Meg made Raoul promise to bring his family to Paris again in the near future. Since not only Christine, but his two little princesses, who had taken a liking to "auntie Meg" and "auntie 'Toinette", had joined Mme. Giry's request, the family began to come to Paris for an extended weekend every few weeks. Christine and the girls then went to see the Girys, while Raoul met some business partners and took care of the maintenance of their mansion in Paris.

Mme. Giry always managed to take Christine aside for a few minutes, handing her one of Gertraud's letters or telling her what she had learned from Erik's letters. Christine now knew how Nadir had smuggled Erik out of France, disguised as an injured Persian, and Mme. Giry now knew exactly what Christine had told Gertraud about Erik. "You must know every detail," Christine had explained to her, "so that our stories will match, when Gertraud comes for a visit in a few months."

Mme. Giry had nodded, glad that she could so easily fulfill Erik's request to find out how much Christine had told Gertraud. "You actually told her you did not know Erik's real name because when you first met him, he used a pen mane?"she asked laughing.

Christine shrugged. "That's not entirely untrue," she defended herself. "Unless I am mistaken, he used to sign certain notes with O.G. What else was that, if not a pen name?"

Mme. Giry was still laughing. "And did you tell your friend what name he used back then?" she asked. "O. G. – what on earth could that possibly stand for? Olivier Gautroux? Oscar Genet? Odilo Grenouille?"

Christine burst into laughter at these grotesque suggestions and admitted that she had not given Gertraud any specific name. "And I doubt that will come up anyway, once Gertraud is here," she assured Mme. Giry. "Just keep in mind that Raoul does not want my past to be discussed in order to avoid additional scandal. Maybe, if Gertraud asks, you can say you were a friend of my parents' and took me in after their death. We did not live at the Opéra, but off your small pension in this house. Raoul was in town and ran into me in the streets one day, that's how we reconnected. And Erik is your foster brother that was struggling to make a career for himself, but since he did not have the right connections,… something like that, just avoid the Opéra Populaire and anything connected with it, as well as my maiden name. It's important, for Erik's safety. I do trust Gertraud, but I am not sure how she would feel if she knew that the famous composer is the former Opera Ghost, and if she knew about my past at the Opéra and my maiden name, she would put two and two together, even though she does not know about Erik's mask. After all, how many teachers could I possibly have had? And I have already told her that Erik was my teacher and Angel of Music…"

Xxxx

In October Gertraud and her husband finally came to Paris for a visit. Christine – with Raoul's permission – had offered the Reifensteins to stay at their mansion in Paris with them for a few days of sightseeing, before they would all go to Brittany for another week or two.

The day after Gertraud's arrival the two ladies and the two little girls went to the Girys, so that Christine could introduce her friend to her foster family. While Meg played with the two Vicomtesses, Gertraud told Christine and Mme. Giry the latest news about Erik. "Monsieur Dumesnil just performed at the concert hall again the week before we left," she informed them, "and oh my God, was he fantastic! I mean, other pianists have good technique as well, but he lives the music, he arouses so many emotions in you with his performance… Needless to say, it was a huge success! I am not the only one that was moved to tears by that soulful adagio movement. Oh Christine, I did not know you could coax such mournful, melancholic sounds out of a piano. I am sure he was thinking of you." She then turned to Mme. Giry. "You must be so proud of your foster brother, Madame," she said.

Madame Giry nodded. Both, she and Christine were fighting back tears, but for different reasons. While Christine felt sorry for her beloved angel, who had to face his destiny alone, Mme. Giry cried tears of joy, knowing that Erik had finally found his place in life and was able to share his talents with the world.

Then Gertraud opened her bag. "Before I forget," she said, pulling out the handwritten copy of the "Love Never Dies"-song that Erik had composed for Christine. "I bet you missed your song. And here," she pulled out a heavy songbook, "are Monsieur Dumesnil's latest songs, fresh from the press. The sale starts this week, but I was able to procure me this copy thanks to my godmother…"

Christine pressed the song to her heart. "Love Lives On…" she whispered dreamily, then opened the songbook. The dedication was similar to the one in his first album. This time it read "To the one who holds my heart – with unending love. E.D."

Christine smiled as she read these words. "My sweet Angel," she said. "I had to hurt him so badly, and he still loves me like that."

Gertraud grinned. "With these songs, this dedication and the way he performed in concert recently, Monsieur Dumesnil will become even more of a tragic hero in the eyes of most ladies I know. I wonder what they'd say if they knew the truth…"

Christine paled. "Does anybody suspect? Do you think…?" she asked hesitantly.

Gertraud shook her head. "No," she stated. "They don't even know that you and Dumesnil met other than at my tea party that first night, since we kept the singing lessons a secret. That really was a good thing in more ways than one. Not only did we make sure that Dumesnil was not flooded with requests for private lessons, but we also made sure your husband would not know you were singing and meeting your old teacher, and it also prevented our gossip-mongers from seeing a connection between the two of you. I can assure you, Christine, that your secret is safe, and the identity of Monsieur Dumesnil's love is still the greatest mystery in all of Berlin, but common consensus is that rarely a woman has ever been loved as much as her."


	21. News

Thank you all for reading and reviewing, putting on alert and adding to your favorites! Every time I get an email notifying me of an alert, review, favorite, it makes my day, truly! And no, Million, this story is far from over. We are somewhere in the middle or maybe at two thirds. It's going to pick up speed again, soon.

I still don't own anything or anybody, except for Gertraud, and I think that gal is a keeper!

Chapter 21 – News

Fall turned into winter and Christine's heart felt heavy at the memories of the previous year. How happy she had been then to see her angel again! She thought of the joy that had filled her when she had recognized him at Gertraud's tea party, of their first meeting in that little grove, when he had promised her to find a way to teach her again, of those wondrous hours when he had helped her polish her voice and of the desperation she had felt at that other meeting that had sealed their fate.

To distract her, Mme. Giry insisted that the de Chagnys come to Paris over Christmas. "That way we can celebrate together," she tried to persuade Raoul. "Since Meg won't get off from work – she has to dance in a few special children's performances – we cannot go to Brittany. We could take Amélie and Isabelle to one of Meg's shows, though…."

At first Raoul was not too pleased with the idea of taking his daughters to a ballet. Deep down he feared that the girls might have inherited Christine's and her father's musical talent and would sooner or later want to take lessons. If so, anything that could possibly awake that interest in music was to be avoided. He simply could not allow the girls to pursue musical careers. It would draw unnecessary attention to Christine's past and there was always the chance… Raoul shuddered. As much as he was convinced that a certain beast was rotting in hell now, there were enough weirdoes out among the so-called Bohemians, the musicians, painters and other artists, for him to not want his daughters to get in contact with that particular social group.

Mme. Giry and Meg were able though to persuade him to allow Christine to take the little ones to the performance, by mentioning that the Duc de Monturier had purchased tickets for his wife and children. Surely, if this pastime was suitable for the little dukes and duchesses it would also be fine for the Vicomtesses de Chagny?

The little girls enjoyed the performance immensely and for days barely talked about anything else. And to think that their auntie Meg had been a part of it! Christine smiled her melancholic smile at her daughters' happy chatter. Seeing Meg perform again had reminded her of their childhood and youth at the Opéra Populaire, of the happy times, when she had felt so safe under her angel's protection… her mind wandered to a lonely man in Berlin and her heart ached at the thought that he had nobody to celebrate Christmas with, since his only friend, Nadir Khan, was of a different religion.

How much she missed Erik, especially during the holiday season! Christmas was a time to be spent with your families and loved ones, a time when she longed for Erik's presence more than ever. And a few days later, the new year began. Somehow she could not bring herself to be optimistic at the start of yet another year. After all, what was there to hope for? Her life was more or less over. What she desired most of all, a chance to be with the man she loved, was beyond her reach forever.

Raoul noticed that Christine was in a rather sad, brooding mood over the holidays. Compared to her bubbling exuberance last year this was quite a change. But when he confronted her and asked her what was wrong she at first denied any problems, and finally admitted that having seen Meg perform had reawoken her desire to sing. "But I know how important it is to you that I don't, and I promised I wouldn't…," she babbled. "I am sure I will get over it soon. Just give me some time."

Raoul was touched by her willingness to respect his wishes in that regard and hugged her passionately. He missed his wife in his bed and he knew that Isabelle would turn two soon. Soon the time of waiting would be over and they could begin to think about a little boy to follow his two princesses.

Christine noted her husband's smile. "What are you thinking about?" she asked curiously.

Raoul pulled her into a tight embrace. "I am thinking that it will soon be time for our boy," he whispered happily.

Christine's face fell. She knew that sooner or later Raoul would claim his rights as her husband again, especially since he needed a male heir who would inherit the title, but she tried to push that thought as far away from her mind as possible. She could not quite get herself to imagine doing the marital act with Raoul again. She had not minded it before, had even kind of enjoyed it, but…. But then she had been under the impression that she loved her husband, while now…. She blushed at the thought of what it might be like doing that with Erik…

"What is the matter?" Raoul asked, disappointment at her lack of enthusiasm very clearly discernible in his voice. "Do you not want to give me a son?"

Christine quickly forced a smile on her face. It was unfair to treat Raoul that way. He had a right to her love and to her body. It was not his fault that every time he kissed or caressed her she felt like betraying Erik. By marrying Raoul she had agreed to accept his love, and she would have to go through with it and give him the son he so wanted and needed.

"I am sorry, Raoul," she quickly apologized. "Of course I want a boy as much as you do. It's just… after what happened when Isabelle was born… I am scared of being pregnant and giving birth…"

Raoul felt bad. How insensitive of him! Of course she would fear having to go through such an ordeal again. He hugged her even tighter. "I know, Christine," he tried to comfort her. "Forgive me for not taking your very justified concerns into consideration. Though I am sure that things will go much smoother next time, I promise we will consult the doctor before we… I mean, we'll check with him first if it is safe for you to have another baby."

Christine nodded bravely. "Thank you," she whispered, praying that the doctor would come up with all sorts of reasons why she could not get pregnant again yet.

When Raoul took his wife to the family doctor after the holidays, to consult him on this matter, the friendly old man stated that the Vicomtesse had certainly matured and grown stronger over the past two years, so that another pregnancy could be taken into consideration. "I would wait till summer, though," he advised. "The cold season may be taxing for a pregnant woman, but if your wife conceived again, let's say in June or July, I am positive that things would go well."

Christine breathed a sigh of relief. That gave her a few more months to prepare herself for the inevitable.

Xxxx

Between frequent visits to Paris and letters from Gertraud, winter passed quickly and spring began to paint the grounds with its soft pastels. Easter was only a few weeks away, and this time the Girys would come to Brittany to celebrate with Christine and her family. Meg would be able to get a few days off from work and mother and daughter would therefore be able to enjoy the beauty of the reawakening nature at the de Chagny estate.

"We came to Paris in winter to spend Christmas and the New Year with you, so it's only fair that this time you come join us in the countryside," Raoul had told Mme. Giry in a tone that did not allow any objection. The ladies had been only too willing to oblige. As lovely as their own little garden was, it could not compare to the gorgeous grounds at Raoul's home in Brittany.

It was agreed that the de Chagnys would come to Paris for a few days about two weeks before Easter, then Raoul would go ahead and prepare a certain surprise for his daughters. Christine and the two girls would follow with the Girys the Thursday before Easter.

Amélie and Isabelle were looking forward to Easter very much. It would be the first time that Isabelle consciously celebrated it, since the previous year she had been too young to pay attention to what was going on. Amélie on the other hand, was getting all excited about Easter egg hunting and maybe getting a gift or two. "Little rabbits are soooo soft," she cooed. "And papa says they are born around this time of the year, just like the fluffy little white lambs. Maybe, if we behave really nicely, we can have a baby rabbit. Or a lamb. Or both."

Christine smiled. "Or an elephant," she teased her older daughter, then added a bit more seriously, "of course it is a nice custom that good children get gifts at Easter, but there is a deeper meaning to this particular holiday." And she explained Easter to them as a day that reminds all people of how much God loves them. Isabelle with her two years of course did not understand much, but four-year old Amélie was impressed by the fact that God's son had died to save humanity.

Xxxx

After a few days in Paris, Raoul took off for Brittany the Sunday before Easter. "I'll set up everything as we discussed," he told Christine. "I'll have the little meadow next to the house fenced in for the mother sheep and her lamb and the little stable built for them. I'll make the necessary arrangements to have the two delivered on Saturday night, when the girls will already be asleep. When you arrive on Thursday night, it will already be too dark for the children to notice these changes. I guess it will not be too hard to keep them in the house on Friday, since it's Good Friday and we can tell them they have to show their gratitude to the Lord by staying inside or something like that. Saturday might be harder. Maybe we are lucky and it will be raining, otherwise we'll just have to repeat whatever we told them on Friday and hope they'll buy it. Then, on Sunday, after mass, we are taking them out to search for colored eggs and they'll find their surprise…."

Christine smiled. She was so looking forward to seeing her daughters' eyes shine with joy at the sight of the sheep family that Raoul had secretly purchased for them. Originally Raoul had wanted to give the girls a pony, but Christine thought it was maybe a bit early for that. Next year maybe, or the year after. For now the woolly sheep and her little one definitely were the better choice.

"I am sure everything will turn out just as we planned it," she said, "and the girls will be so thrilled with their gift!" She felt gratitude for her husband. He really tried hard to make her and their children happy. He would have deserved her love in return, the love that she had promised him in front of the altar five years ago and that had been a lie. She had not been aware of that fact back then, but that did not make it any less of a lie in her opinion. She knew now that she had never truly loved her childhood friend. At least not like a wife should love her husband. The feelings she had for Raoul were more like those of a sister for her older brother. But she had been so confused after those terrible months at the Opéra Populaire that had culminated in the ill-fated performance of "Don Juan Triumphant", she had not really known what she wanted or what she should do, and Raoul had been there, had taken her under his wings, promised to protect her and keep her safe and she had been glad to have somebody she could rely on. She had mistaken those feelings of gratitude for love and had sworn herself to him. Now she was older and wiser and knew the difference between friendship and love, but now it was too late. Now she was indissolubly bound to one man while her soul longed for another one.

She felt sorry for Raoul. He still believed in her love, unaware of the fact that their happiness was nothing but an illusion, that their marriage was a failure, because sooner or later, he, too, would realize that something was amiss. She would not be able to keep up appearances indefinitely. Sooner or later she would slip, do something or say something that would make Raoul suspicious, would tell him that her heart belonged to somebody else.

"What a wretched person I am," Christine thought by herself. "I bring pain to those that love me. By choosing the wrong man, I have not only caused Erik pain, but I am also hurting Raoul. True, he might have been equally hurt if I had rejected him early on, told him that there was somebody else. But he might have been able to move on and find somebody who truly loves him, who is able to appreciate his many good qualities and not somebody like me who sometimes hates him for no other reason than that he is not Erik…."

She decided she would try harder in the future, make the best of her marriage. She owed it to Raoul and to their daughters to make it work. "And I owe him an heir…" she thought. "And I owe him my love. I promised it to him when we got married, and no matter how hard it is for me, I need to try and keep this promise. Erik and I cannot be together, I know that and I have to fully accept it. But it won't help either me or Erik if Raoul is miserable as well because of my indifference. I cannot do right by Erik anymore, I hurt him so badly, and there is nothing I can do to alleviate his pain. But it is still time to do right by Raoul…."

She smiled at her husband. "Have a safe journey," she whispered, "I'll see you Thursday night."

Raoul put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead. "Till Thursday, my love," he said, then entered the carriage. Christine stood at the gate and watched until the carriage had disappeared from her view.

Xxxx

Two days later, a telegram arrived at the de Chagny mansion in Paris. The butler brought it to the nursery, where Christine, with Mme. Giry's help, was packing her daughters' bags for the imminent journey to Brittany.

Chtristine looked up uneasily when the butler entered the room. She had given orders not to be disturbed for the next hour or so, so that she could finish the packing.

"A telegram, Madame," the butler said apologetically. "It might be urgent…."

Christine sighed. She could not think of anything urgent enough to interrupt her current endeavor. "It is probably for my husband," she told the butler. "Some business issue or other…"

The butler shook his head. "I beg to differ, Madame," he uttered, "but it clearly states that it is for you. And unless I am mistaken this was sent from Brittany, the little town next to your estate…."

Christine paled. A sense of foreboding washed through her. Had something happened there? Something so important…. so terrible… that the news could not wait till she'd be there the day after tomorrow? Had Raoul sent the telegram or was Raoul…. She did not want to finish that thought.

"Let me see," she told the butler, almost ripping the telegram out of his hand and tearing it open. Then she gasped and started to shake violently. "Oh my God," she whispered.

Mme. Giry was at her side in a heartbeat, supporting her. "Christine, calm down," she tried to comfort her. "Is something wrong?"

Christine was in shock. She simply handed the telegram to her foster mother, unable to speak, to repeat those words that were too terrible to even think them.

Mme. Giry took the telegram and read. "Vicomte seriously injured in accident, immediate arrival necessary."

Mme. Giry pulled Christine into her arms. "You must go to him immediately," she told the younger woman. "Take the next train, hurry, I will take care of everything else here and follow with the children tomorrow. You can leave them in my care, they will be fine."

Christine nodded absentmindedly. "Will you tell them…?" she asked.

Mme. Giry thought about it for a moment. "I am not sure. We do not know yet how serious it is. There is no need to make them worry. Maybe I'll tell them that their papa is sick and that therefore you are going ahead to look after him. They will understand that."

Christine bit her lip. "What if…," her voice quivered. "What if Raoul… I mean… do you think he could ….die?"

Mme. Giry caressed her foster daughter's head. "You shouldn't fear the worst when we do not even know yet what exactly has happened and what the nature of his injury is. It does seem that he is still alive, or the telegram would probably be worded differently," she tried to reassure Christine. "And where there is life, there is hope. Now hurry to get to him, your presence will mean the world to him." As sympathetic as Mme. Giry was to Christine's and Erik's plight, she was fair enough to admit that the Vicomte did indeed love Christine as well. "Unless I am mistaken there is a train leaving in that direction in about an hour. You can catch that one. Get ready, I'll take care of the rest."

And while Christine went to change for the travel, Mme. Giry instructed Christine's maid to have the Vicomtesse's overnight bag packed and get ready to accompany her mistress, then ordered the butler to have the carriage ready to take the Vicomtesse to the train station. The little Vicomtesses would stay one more night, and she herself would take them to Brittany the next day. For a brief moment she considered informing Erik of the situation, then thought better of it. Even though she had a feeling that the Vicomte's condition must be critical – if there was no immediate danger they could have waited for Christine to arrive in two days as planned – it felt somehow wrong to get Erik involved just yet.


	22. Injury

So, there it is, the chapter that will clarify what has happened to Raoul and what his diagnosis is. You Are Love, be warned though, I have a feeling, this chapter might evoke similar feelings in you as the "Family"-one.

Anyway, thank you all for reading and reviewing, every time an email arrives informing me that somebody has written a review, added one of my stories to their favorites or put the current one on alert, it always makes my day!

BTW, those of you that have been following my stories for quite a while, might want to know that even though my brain felt like mush this week due to a bad cold, I had an idea for a new story. I probably won't start writing it before this one is finished, though, which will still take a while, but I thought I'd let you know there is hope for more stories...

Anyway, I stil don't own anything or anybody, though I wish I did. Oh, and I promise there will be Erik in the next chapter...

Chapter 22 – Injury

An hour later Christine was sitting in a first-class compartment on the train to Brittany. She and her maid had arrived at the station barely in time to board the outgoing train. As long as the two of them had been hurrying to catch the train, Christine had not been able to think, but now that she was comfortably seated and knew it would take a few hours to arrive at their little town, the telegram message once again began to torment her. What had happened to Raoul? How badly injured was he?

"Oh my God," she prayed, "please let it not be too bad. Please let him be fine. I did not want this to happen! Yes, it is true, there have been times when I wished I could be free of this marriage that I entered so imprudently, free to follow my heart, to be with Erik… But not like that! Oh God, believe me, I never wanted anything to happen to Raoul! Please, believe me, please do not punish me so terribly for wanting my freedom back, please let him live and get well again! I promise, I will never complain about my fate again, if Raoul recovers, I will bear whatever happens and be the best possible wife to him, if only we will not lose him. Our girls are still so young, they need their father's guidance. What would they do without him? Oh God, not that! I know from my own experience what it means to lose a father at such a tender age. Please God, oh please, please spare my poor daughters a similar situation!"

When the train finally stopped at the little town next to the de Chagny estate, Christine was a nervous wreck. A carriage was waiting for her, since Mme. Giry had answered the telegram by writing back that the Vicomtesse would arrive with the next train. To Christine's frayed nerves it seemed that the coachman was in a particularly somber mood, and her heart sank. Was Raoul's condition that serious that his loyal servants were worried about him? She wanted to ask about her husband's condition, but remembered just in time that the servants – with the possible exception of the housekeeper, who had sent the telegram - most likely had not been given any details on their master's injury.

"I assume I will meet the doctor at the estate?" Christine finally managed to ask.

The coachman nodded, then added, "yes, Madame, the doctor came at once and has not left. He has offered to stay overnight, if necessary." His voice shook. He had not been with his master when it had happened, but he had helped bring him home afterwards, and he had seen enough men in similar condition to know what the doctor would have to tell the Vicomtesse. He pitied his mistress. She was so young and seemed so fragile. Her and the master had only been married for a couple of years and they had always seemed so happy together, they had two beautiful children. What the doctor would most likely have to tell her would come as a major shock to the young lady.

Christine thanked the coachman and asked him to take her home at once. She was more nervous now than ever. Though the man had not told her anything about Raoul's condition, his body language had made it clear that he expected the worst.

Xxxx

The housekeeper had been nervously awaiting her mistress' arrival and went to meet her in front of the door as soon as she saw the carriage approaching. Christine asked the loyal servant to follow her into the parlor, and once they were alone there, she asked the question that had been foremost on her mind for hours.

"What happened to my husband, Colette?" Christine was shocked at the sound of her own voice. Worry and fear made it sound hollow and raspy.

"Oh Madame," Colette began. "Everything was going as planned. Yesterday, some of our men built the little stable for the sheep and this morning they were going to do the fencing. But then, late last night, a terrible storm broke loose. You know how it can be here, as exposed as we are on the shore, but this was worse than anything I remember."

Christine nodded. Now that the housekeeper mentioned it, she realized that she had seen traces of the storm's damage along the way, broken branches, a few uprooted trees, broken windows, a half-collapsed hut. The signs of a natural disaster had been all around her in the ravaged landscape, but she had been too preoccupied with her own worries to pay them much attention.

"So this morning, all our men went out to assess the damage and start with the cleaning and repair," Colette continued. "Of course, the master's main concern, next to the stables and outbuildings, was the new shelter for the sheep. He sent Paul and Michel ahead to check, along with young Etienne."

Christine smiled. That was so typical of Raoul. In the midst of all that destruction he thought about the surprise for his daughters.

"When the master followed the men a little later, he had to arrange a few pressing matters regarding necessary repairs to the roof of the dairy first, he found a rather precarious situation. The old oak-tree that was supposed to be within the future enclosure for the sheep, so that on warm summer days the sheep could have some shade, had been mostly uprooted by the storm, leaning dangerously to the side and threatening to crush the newly built stable. Since the tree could not be saved anyway, the men had decided to at least try and keep it from falling on top of the sheep shelter. Paul was busy cleaning up the meadow, by collecting fallen branches and twigs. Etienne was tying a strong rope around the tree's thick trunk, while Paul was observing the tree from a short distance, giving Etienne hints, whether or not it seemed safe to go closer, pull the rope tighter etc., since the huge tree was already rather unstable. From what I hear, their plan was to try and use the rope to pull the tree away from the sheep stable, make it fall in the other direction."

Christine thought by herself that this did not sound like too great a plan to her, considering the sheer size of the tree in question, and her eyes widened in shock as she suddenly had a feeling she knew what had happened next.

"That's the way things were, when the master joined them," Colette continued. "Then suddenly one of these gusts of wind came up that we sometimes experience in the aftermath of a storm. The tree shook dangerously and Paul cried out a warning to Etienne to get away, but Etienne dripped over one of the roots and fell. The master was close by. He saw the tree shaking, about to bury young Etienne. So he jumped in, trying to push the boy out of harm's way. He mostly succeeded. When the tree finally did come down, Etienne was still hit, but only by one of the branches, not by the thick trunk. The master, on the other hand…" Colette was sobbing now.

Christine paled. This sounded much, much worse than she had expected, but it was so much like Raoul to play the knight in shining armor, to jump in and try to protect the innocent. "Is there… what…?" she stammered.

Her mistress' obvious distress seemed to calm the housekeeper. "Michel stayed with them, while Paul ran home for help. I sent him on to the doctor immediately and ordered all the other men to go to the site of the accident with stretchers etc. They had to saw off a few of the larger branches before they even could get to the master, they were not even finished yet before the doctor arrived."

Christine sighed. At least everything humanly possible had been done to save Raoul. Then she remembered the innocent reason of her husband's accident. Young Etienne, the widowed cook's only child. "Etienne?" she asked. "Did my husband at least succeed in saving him? Will the boy be fine?"

Colette nodded. "They needed to bring him in on a stretcher as well. A huge branch fell on his leg and he suffered an open fracture of his left calf, but the doctor is confident he won't lose the leg. Of course, without the master, he would have been the one hit by the tree trunk…."

Christine breathed a sigh of relief. Raoul would be glad to hear this. She knew that Etienne was not to blame for what had happened. He was not responsible for Raoul's deep-seated urge to help and protect those in need.

"May I see my husband now?" Christine finally asked.

The housekeeper shook her head. "The doctor wants to talk to you first," she explained. "He is with the master right now. I will let him know that you have arrived and send him here. I can stay with the master in the meantime."

Christine looked down. She had an extremely bad feeling. Colette had not given her any specifics on Raoul's injuries, just that he had been buried underneath a rather large and heavy tree. That the doctor wanted to talk to her before she could even see her husband, made her wary. What did he need to tell her? What was so bad that he would have to give her a warning before she could face Raoul? And why hadn't Colette told her what exactly was wrong with him? Surely, by now the housekeeper must have an approximate idea about her master's condition?

"Please go and get the doctor," she finally whispered. "I will be waiting for him here."

Colette hesitated another moment. The young Vicomtesse seemed deeply shaken by what she had had to tell her, and she was not sure if it was wise to leave her alone for the few moments it would take to send the doctor down. But in the end she left, determined to hurry as much as possible. It did not really help to keep the young woman in this uncertainty any longer, even though the uncertainty was probably more merciful than the truth.

Xxxx

Even though Christine only had to wait a few minutes for the doctor to join her in the parlor, to her it felt like ages. Terrible visions of her husband's broken, blood-soaked body kept assaulting her and she had to concentrate very hard on not giving in to the overwhelming urge to scream or faint. Somehow she felt as if she was not up to dealing with whatever lay ahead of her. What if Raoul remained an invalid? What if he died? What would this do to her daughters? What on earth should she do? What could she do?

"Madame de Chagny," the doctor's grave voice interrupted Christine's nervous thoughts. When he realized how pale and shaken the young woman looked, he continued hesitantly, "are you sure you feel up to this conversation, Madame? If you prefer, I could give you something for your nerves, before we discuss your husband's condition."

Christine shook her head. "No further delay, doctor, please," she whispered, her expressive brown eyes wide with anticipated shock. "I need to know now. Ever since I got that telegram, and now that Colette told me how it happened… it's the uncertainty that kills me. Please, Monsieur le Docteur, tell me everything. The truth. How bad is it?"

The old doctor sighed. "Days," he told her. "Maybe a week or two at the utmost. He suffered multiple bone fractures, the broken ribs injured his lungs, there has been some internal bleeding, and, most importantly, his spine was injured, so even if he lived he would be paralyzed. I did what I could," he added sadly, "it just won't be enough."

"Oh my God," Christine looked ashen. She was leaning back into her chair, her neck suddenly feeling unable to support her head anymore. The doctor quickly was at her side, feeling her pulse. He cursed inwardly. Despite her outward demonstration of strength the young woman was under heavy shock. He quickly summoned a maid and ordered her to bring a glass of water and fetch him his bag.

Once the maid reappeared with those items, he took a small sachet out of his bag, poured some white powder into the water and made Christine drink the whole glass. He then waited until her breathing became more even and she seemed a bit stronger.

"Madame, you must be careful," he admonished her. "you should have told me how weak you already felt. It helps nobody if you collapse, certainly not your husband and least of all your children. They will need you just as much as he will over the next few days."

Christine nodded obediently. "Can I see Raoul now?" she asked weakly.

The doctor shook his head. "No, now you must eat something to regain your strength. I asked the cook earlier to prepare some soup for our patient, that should do you some good as well." At his words, the maid who had remained in the room, waiting for further instructions, left and returned a few minutes later with a plate full of steaming chicken noodle soup on a tray.

Christine did not really feel hungry, but under the doctor's watchful eyes she obediently finished the whole plate. She had to admit that the warmth of the soup somewhat soothed her nerves.

The doctor smiled at Christine encouragingly. "If you feel strong enough, you may see your husband now," he told her.

"One more question," Christine addressed the old physician, once the maid had disappeared with the now empty plate. "Does he know…?"

"I did not tell him," the doctor answered, "but I think he suspects. After all, he has served in the Navy. They do have courses on first aid and triage there. I have a feeling he knows enough about the nature of his injuries to at least fear…."

Christine fought back tears. "I don't want him to know," she finally said. "It would worry him so much, having to leave me and the children behind, alone, unprotected. I want him to hope that all will be fine with time, and I want to make whatever time we have left… I want it to be good memories, for all of us. For him to take with him to the afterlife and for me and the children to remember him by."

The doctor smiled. He liked the way the young woman was thinking now. If only all relatives felt that way when faced with the imminent loss of a loved one. "That is the right attitude," he encouraged her. "I am sure your husband will appreciate it."

The doctor then lead Christine to Raoul's bedroom. He asked her to wait outside to check on his patient first. He sent Colette, who had been sitting with her master during the doctor's conversation with Christine, away, then smiled at Raoul. "The Vicomtesse has arrived from Paris," he announced cheerfully. "Do you feel strong enough for a visit?"

"Yes," Raoul's voice was barely more than a whisper, his face paper-white.

"Good," the doctor commented. "Now you just have to promise me to remain calm during her visit, then I can allow Madame to come in. Will you do that?"

Another barely audible "yes" was the reply and the doctor went to the door and motioned Christine in.

Christine was shocked at the sight of her once so youthful, energetic husband lying in the bed, covered with bandages, his pale face drawn and bruised, all his strength gone, but she remembered her resolve to not contribute to his sufferings by making him worry about her and the children and forced a brave smile on her face.

"Raoul, my darling," she sat down next to the bed and grasped for his hand that lay almost lifelessly on the cover.

"Chri… Chri..stine..," Raoul stammered weakly. "I feared you would not be in time, that I would die before seeing you again…"

Christine put a finger on his mouth to make him stop. "Don't talk, love," she cooed softly. "You are still too weak, you need to conserve your strength. And don't say such nonsense about dying. You won't die. I know it must feel terrible having to lie so still, being unable to move, but that's what happens when you break several of your bones at once. I admit it will take a while till you make a full recovery, you will need to be patient about it. Morose thoughts won't help, though, that I know for sure."

Raoul tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Brave Christine," he murmured. "The children?"

Christine smiled. "They are still in Paris with Madame Giry, you don't have to worry. They are in good hands with her. She will bring them here tomorrow."

Raoul nodded, then remembered something else. "Easter," he whispered, "the sheep…"

"Of course." Christine understood what he meant. "Everything will be ready in time," she lied. She was fairly certain that finishing the fence for the sheep was currently not on anybody's list of priorities. "The children will love the sheep." Of that at least she was certain. The mother sheep and her lamb would be delivered as planned and would probably have to share their pasture with the cows for the time being, but Christine was convinced that her daughters would love their new pets.

Raoul seemed to relax a bit. "Etienne?" he asked after a while.

Christine squeezed his limp hand. "Don't worry about him, love," she said. "The boy is fine. Unlike you, he only broke one bone. The doctor assures me he will be back on his feet in no time."

"Not blame…," Raoul whispered. "Not his fault…."

"Of course not," Christine calmed Raoul. "It was not his fault that the tree chose that particular moment to fall. In fact, I was planning to go see Etienne later. If you want me to, I can then tell him in person that we are both convinced that your accident was not his fault. After all," she added teasingly, "it only happened because you felt the need to help and protect the ones in need, or in that particular case, the one in danger. How I adore this quality of yours, my knight in shining armor!" She smiled proudly at Raoul, while her hand gently caressed the outline of his sunken cheek.


	23. Guilt

Thank you all for your reviews, for reading this story, for putting it on alert and for adding it to your favorites. I can tell you that these last two chapters were really hard to write, since I am not too fond of Raoul, but I wanted to give him a heroic send-off for the sake of the little girls. Erik is back though, towards the end of this chapter, and there will be more Erik coming in the next update.

Oh, and if you have ever watched the old TV-Series "Beauty and the Beast" with Ron Perlman as Vinent and Linda Hamilton as Catherine, winterfest online just started today. You can find it at . In the "Library" section you will find the 3S Round Robin which I co-wrote, plus a humorous little story I wrote for this occasion. It is really strange. Despite the similarities between the characters, Erik I can see with nobody but Christine, while Vincent and Diana are really growing on me. Anyway, if you wan to check it out, you know where to find it.

On to this story now. I still dont own anything or anybody, but then, what else is new?

Chapter 23 – Guilt

Raoul got tired pretty soon and fell asleep. Christine decided to go see Etienne next. She had a feeling that the young man would be tormented by guilt, blaming himself for his master's accident, which could not be good for his own recovery. "The boy needs to get well soon and to understand that this is not his fault. Otherwise Raoul's sacrifice will have been in vain," she told herself. "And it won't help anybody, if Etienne is miserable, too."

Christine found the young man in a somber, brooding mood, as expected. She smiled at him encouragingly. She had always liked Etienne. He had been barely older than ten when she and Raoul had gotten married. His mother was the cook at the estate, his father had been a fisherman but had perished in a storm when the boy had been a year old. The widow had then taken on the job at the de Chagny estate, in order to make a living for herself and her child. Etienne had always helped his mother in the kitchen and when he had turned 15 last fall he had been hired as a farmhand. How proud he had been then!

"Hello, Etienne," Christine smiled at the boy, who tried to sit up to greet her. "No, no," she admonished him, "you stay put. You need to rest, so that your leg can heal properly."

Etienne laid back down. "What difference does it make?" he said glumly. "After what happened today… I sure will lose my job, maybe mother as well…"

Christine patted his shoulder. "Nobody is losing their jobs, neither you nor your mother," she reassured the young man. "What happened was not your fault. You did not ask my husband to jump in and try to push you out of harm's way. It was his own decision to do that."

"I should not have been under that tree. I should not have fallen," Etienne accused himself. "Then the master would not have had to…."

Christine shook her head. "You tried to save the sheep shelter," she reminded the boy. "Which is exactly what my husband would have wanted you to do. You did your job even though you knew it was risky. You should be proud of yourself. My husband feels the same way," she added gently. "He is grateful that you tried to save that little stable for the sheep. In fact, he asked me about the sheep project, if everything will be ready in time. It means a lot to him that you were so eager to help him with this surprise for our daughters."

Etienne looked a bit less gloomy. "But what if…," his feeling of guilt returned. "The master…," he whispered. "He will not recover, or will he? I saw him when they carried him to the mansion. He looked…. As if he were dead already." He shuddered.

"He is in God's hand," Christine said solemnly. "But whatever happens, whether he lives or dies, it is not your fault, Etienne. Neither my husband nor I or our daughters will ever blame you for this accident."

Xxxx

The next day, Mme. Giry arrived with the two little Vicomtesses. Christine hugged her daughters tightly, then sent them to their room with the nanny. As soon as the door had closed behind the girls, she threw herself into Mme. Giry's arms and cried. She had done her best to appear as strong as possible in front of the doctor, her staff, and most importantly, Raoul, and therefore she had not been able to release all the pent-up pain and suffering.

"He is dying," she sobbed. "Mme. Giry, he is going to die! My girls will soon be as father-less as I was when growing up! And I feel so… so guilty. I have not been the best wife to him, at least not recently, not since…. Berlin." Christine could not get herself to pronounce her Angel's name or mention the love she felt for him. Her current problem made everything else seem so small, so meaningless in comparison.

"Sh," Mme. Giry tried to comfort her. "You have been a loyal, faithful wife to him and have given him two beautiful children that are his joy and pride. You have also been obedient and followed his wish not to sing anymore, though I know how much this has cost you. I am sure you have made him as happy as you could, and even though you did not love him as much as he loves you, you still care for him deeply."

"I wanted to be free," Christine sobbed. "I thought of this marriage as a burden…"

"You never wanted him to die," Mme. Giry reminded her. "You did not wish this to happen. You cannot blame yourself. You were not even here, when it happened."

Mme. Giry continued to try to soothe her surrogate daughter, but it took a while for Christine to calm down enough to tell Mme. Giry what had happened. Then the older woman smiled. "You did find the right words for young Etienne," she said. "I just hope you will be able to accept that they apply to you as well. This is no more your fault than his. It is Raoul's nature to barge in with flying colors and help those in need or danger. It is a noble quality, but also a dangerous one."

Christine put on a brave smile. "I know," she whispered. "After all, that's how he caught my eye all those years ago, when we were children and he ran into the ice-cold sea to retrieve my scarf."

Mme. Giry held Christine for another minute. "Your daughters," she reminded Christine then. "The children need you now. I told them that their papa is sick, but of course they only think it's something like the flu or so. Do you think we can let them see their father or might it be too traumatizing for them?"

Christine resolutely shook her head. "They deserve a chance to see him again and Raoul has the right to have his daughters around. Yes, they are younger than I was when my papa died, but I am grateful for every minute I could spend with him during his final illness and I want my children to have that same opportunity. I will talk to them, and when Raoul wakes up later, I will take them to him."

Together, Christine and Mme. Giry went to the nursery to talk to the little Vicomtesses. After they dismissed the nanny, Christine sat down on the floor with the girls and began to talk to them.

"Auntie 'Toinette has already told you that your papa is sick," she began slowly. The children nodded and Christine continued. "There are different types of sickness," she explained. "Sometimes sick people get tired very easily. That is the case with your papa. Sometimes, sick people look strange, like can you remember when Isabelle had the measles last winter and was all covered in red dots?"

"So funny," Amélie commented. "She looked like a clown!" Isabelle looked as if she were about to start crying.

Christine put an arm around her younger daughter. "See, Amélie, that's why I mentioned this. Even though our Isabelle is well again and every bit as pretty as before her illness, it still hurts her to be reminded of these dots. Your father looks very different, too, now, not at all the way he looks usually. But this is because he is sick now. It might make him sad, though, if you said anything about it, just like Isabelle hates being reminded of these dots. Therefore just pretend that you do not notice anything unusual about him. We do not want him to feel bad about being sick, or do we? Will you be able to be brave and say nothing about how pale he is, that his face is bruised and his limbs bandaged?"

The two girls looked at each other. They were not quite sure they understood why this was important.

"You must promise me to be strong and not to comment on your father's sick appearance," Christine insisted. "We do not want to upset him now, that he is not feeling too well, right?"

Both girls shook their heads. "We love our papa," Amélie said, "we do not want to upset him. I will say nothing."

Isabelle nodded. "I not say word," the two-year-old promised.

Christine beamed at them. "Then come," she said, "let's see if papa is awake." She lead the girls to Raoul's bedroom, where she made them wait with Mme. Giry and entered alone to see first if Raoul was well enough to meet his daughters.

Colette was sitting with the patient, while the doctor was looking after Etienne. Raoul smiled as his wife entered. "Christine," he whispered, "the children?"

Christine nodded. "Our two princesses have arrived, Raoul," she said warmly. "If you feel strong enough to see them, they are waiting outside with Mme. Giry."

Raoul beamed. "I so hoped I could see them again, before…," he sighed.

Christine gave him a stern look. "Don't say it," she admonished her husband. "Don't even think it. You can't give yourself up like this. You will get through this. _We_ will. Together." Then she smiled. "Now I go get the girls, and I will be very upset if you scare them with such morbid thoughts."

Colette was already on her feet. "I will send the little Vicomtesses in, Madame," she offered.

Christine smiled at her. "Thank you," she said, sitting down at her husband's bedside and entwining her fingers with his.

The door opened again and the two little girls cautiously walked in. Christine gave them an encouraging smile. "Come now, children," she cooed softly, "your papa wants to see you."

Raoul beamed. He knew that he did not have much time left anymore, and he was sure that Christine knew as well, even though she did not seem to have acknowledged that fact yet. He was a bit worried about his family, Christine had been through so much already. It was not fair to leave her alone now, in charge of raising their two children alone. He made a small move and winced in pain. Death would be a relief. If only he would not have to abandon his wife and children. His worst fear, though, had been to die without seeing them one last time, the girls, his two little princesses.

"Amélie, Isabelle," he said weakly, giving them his grimace of a smile. "It is good to see you."

The two girls were in shock. This weak man on the bed had absolutely no similarity with their energetic, fun-loving papa. But they felt their mother's eyes on them, pleading with them to overcome their shock and be strong.

"Papa," Amélie finally whispered. "Poor papa. Please get well soon!" And little Isabelle repeated, "well, soon."

Christine was filled with pride at her brave daughters. "Why don't you two sit down here for a while," she pointed to the chair that Colette had just vacated, "and I tell you one of those dark stories of the North that your papa and I loved when we were children?"

Amélie and Isabelle nodded eagerly. They shared their parents' love for stories. So Christine began to tell them a Swedish fairy-tale she had learned from her father.

After a while, Raoul got tired and Christine and the children left to let him sleep. "We should have had a boy, too," Raoul mumbled weakly, when Christine kissed his forehead.

"We will," Christine promised. "As soon as you are better, we will have our boy." Raoul smiled. She sounded so determined that for a moment he almost believed that she was right, that he would get better again and that there would be time for a son. "Now rest," Christine told him. "We will be back tomorrow."

Xxxxx

"… I hope you are not angry that I burden you with all these problems, my dear friend, but other than Mme. Giry I have nobody to confide in, and I know that deep down she thinks that this is the best solution, that it makes the way free for me and Erik… But how can I even think of something like that, Gertraud? How can I plan a future that is built on my husband's grave? I may not have loved him as a wife should, but he is the father of my children and I promised him my love in front of the altar once…"

Gertraud von Reifenstein stared at the many pages long letter that she had received from her friend Christine this morning. Of course she was shocked to read about the Vicomte's accident and the fact that he was slowly dying. She could even understand that Christine was not taking this lightly. "She is so sensitive," Gertraud thought. "Of course she feels guilty now for having secretly desired her freedom, but on the other hand…" She once again remembered her suspicion that Raoul had known all along that Christine's heart truly belonged to his rival. "He lured her away from her true love," she thought. "He had no problems building his own happiness on two broken hearts. If anybody is being punished here by the Almighty, I am sure it is not Christine…"

Then she browsed through the letter again. Had Christine said something about informing Dumesnil of the new development? No. Gertraud shook her head. Christine had barely mentioned her beloved more than once, mostly just alluded to him. Gertraud sighed. "She is capable of ruining this," she thought. "Christine and Dumesnil are being given a second chance, and Christine is about to screw it all up once again with her misplaced feeling of guilt. I won't let her throw away this chance, though. I bet she has not even told him yet that she is about to be free again…."

She thought about it for a few moments then grinned. "If she does not tell him," she thought, "then somebody else has to…."

She put on her jacket, grabbed her hat and gloves and went to see her godmother.

After some small talk, Gertraud faced Dora. "I need to ask you a favor," she whispered. "I need to talk to Monsieur Dumesnil. I cannot tell you why, but I have some sort of message that might be important for him."

Dora gave her goddaughter an uneasy look. "I probably should not help you with this," she said cautiously. "It sounds too much like a dangerous secret to me. If I did not know that you adore your Albrecht, I could almost think…."

Gertraud laughed. "Nothing of the sort," she explained. "But there is something I am fairly certain he is not aware of yet, that I think he needs to know. Please?"

Dora sighed. When had she ever been able to deny her goddaughter anything when Gertraud begged her like that? She had spoiled the girl, but she also knew that Gertraud would do nothing wrong. She could trust her goddaughter's judgment.

"I will help you," she finally said, sat down, wrote a quick note, sealed it and summoned a servant. "Please deliver this message to Monsieur Erik Dumesnil at once," she ordered the servant. "It is urgent."

As soon as the servant had left, she turned to Gertraud. "Now we wait," she told her.

Gertraud was all flustered. "What did you write him?" she asked.

Dora smiled. "The truth. That you have some urgent message to tell him, could he therefore please come by for a moment so that you could talk to him?"

Gertraud nodded. That was better than she had hoped for. He would hopefully guess that whatever she wanted to tell him had something to do with Christine. "Thank you," she murmured, squeezing her godmother's hand. "If the servant finds him at home, I am sure he will come."

Half an hour later, Dora's butler announced that Monsieur Erik Dumesnil had arrived. "The gentleman asked to be lead into the music room," he added. "He is waiting there."

Dora smiled. She knew why Erik had insisted on that particular room. It was the darkest room of the house, with large trees in front of the windows. In the late afternoon twilight his mask would not be noticeable there.

She thanked the butler and informed him that they would be joining Monsieur Dumesnil in the music room shortly.

"Go ahead," she told Gertraud, as soon as the butler had left. "Go ahead and talk to him. I can give you ten minutes, then I will have to follow you, for reasons of propriety."

Gertraud hugged her godmother and ran over to the music room. Erik stood near one of the windows, his left profile facing her.

"Monsieur Dumesnil, I am so glad you came," Gertraud blurted out.

Erik turned towards her, his face still half hidden by the poor light. "The message sounded urgent," he said. "I assume this is about Christine?"

Gertraud nodded. "I am not sure you know that yet, I have a feeling Christine has not told you," she began uneasily, "but maybe your foster sister…"

Erik gave her an exasperated look. "What is the matter, Madame von Reifenstein?" he asked brusquely. "Has something happened to Christine? Is she in any kind of danger?"

Gertraud shook her head. "It's her husband," she then explained. "The Vicomte was buried by a falling tree and he is slowly dying."

Erik snorted. "And you think Christine would call for me now, before he is even dead and buried?" he asked. "She is not so insensitive…."

Gertraud sighed. This was going all wrong. "I thought she might need a shoulder to cry on," she whispered. "She blames herself. She thinks that that is God's punishment because she had wished to be free…"

Erik was speechless. "She is blaming herself for an accident her boy suffered? How can she? What did he get himself into? And no, Antoinette hasn't told me anything either," he added somewhat calmer.

"She is probably busy supporting Christine," Gertraud explained Mme. Giry's silence, then told him in a few words what Christine had written her about Raoul's accident.

Erik nodded. "That does sound like him," he admitted. "He has always been so eager to play the knight in shining armor," he added bitterly, thinking back to a night over five years ago, the night that he had let Christine go for the first time. "Sooner or later his need for heroism had to catch up with him."

Gertraud gave him a pleading look. "What are you going to do now, Monsieur?" she asked nervously.

Erik thought about it for a few minutes. "I will go see Antoinette," he finally decided. "She is with Christine now, she will know best how we can help her."

Gertraud beamed. "Thank you," she said simply. "She sounds so depressed now, I am worried about her." And in her thoughts she added, "I hope she will come back to Berlin again one day, as Madame Dumesnil…."


	24. Death

Another chapter ready, I guess you have been eagerly awaiting it. As promised, there is more Erik this time. Maybe you now understand why I gave Christine daughters in this story... ;-)

Anyway, thank you all for your reviews, for reading this and my other stories and for all your support. I do appreciate every single one of your comments!

On to the next chapter, I bet you are all curious to learn how Erik is faring back home... I still don't own anything or anybody, except for Amélie, I guess... though Christine and Erik might not agree ;-)

Chapter 24 – Death

Raoul's condition slowly deteriorated. He got weaker every day. At first, the excitement about how his daughters would react to their Easter surprise had kept him going, but once Easter Sunday had come and gone and the girls had thanked him with glowing faces and happy smiles for this wonderful gift, it was as if he had reached his final goal. He had summoned all his strength to live long enough to see his children's joy over their new pets, and once this moment had passed, he was too exhausted to carry on.

A few days later Raoul passed away. Christine was sitting with him, holding his hand. He felt at peace. He knew this was the end, that his suffering would soon be over, and he welcomed death. Only one thought was troubling him, the memory of a crime he committed for Christine's sake, of those actions that lead to the monster's death . With a last effort, he gripped his wife's hand.

"Christine, I love you," he whispered, then added slowly, "all I ever did, I did out of love for you, my Little Lotte." Visions of his former rival's broken body troubled him. Deep down he knew that Christine had deeply cared for that monster, and yet he had tried his best to get the freak killed. Was he any better than him? Was he not a murderer as well, for having planned the Phantom's assassination during that ill-fated performance of "Don Juan Triumpant" all those years ago?

Christine smiled at him. "I know that, Raoul," she said softly, "I love you, too." And at that particular moment in time she meant it.

Raoul's eyes brightened. Her words felt to him like an absolution. She understood that he had not meant to hurt her by hunting that – him. She knew that all he had truly wanted to do was to protect her, to keep her safe. "He loved her, too," Raoul thought. "If he hears that she forgives me, so will he. Her opinion will matter to him. When we meet again in front of the Almighty, maybe he will not blame his violent death on me." And suddenly he was not afraid of death anymore. In his opinion, Christine's understanding had absolved him from his crime.

Still smiling, he leant back and closed his eyes, never to open them again.

Xxxx

The days following Raoul's death were like a nightmare to Christine. She felt completely drained, emotionally exhausted, and yet there was so much to do. The de Chagnys' family grave was in Paris and Christine knew that not just his relatives, but Raoul, too, would want her to have him laid to rest there with his ancestors, even though she would have preferred to have him buried in Brittany, where they had first met, and where they had been happy together once.

She therefore had to organize the transfer of his body to Paris and make arrangements for the funeral, while at the same time being there for her confused daughters.

"Your papa was so tired because of his sickness," she explained to Amélie and Isabelle. "He wanted to sleep, to rest. Now he has his peace. We won't begrudge him that, right? We will be happy for him that he does not suffer anymore, that he is not in pain any longer." She barely was able to hold back her own tears while talking to the children, trying to comfort them.

Amélie's little face was red with tears, her eyes swollen. "Will we not see papa again, ever?" she cried.

Christine hugged her daughter. "Not in this world, darling," she explained. "But he is with God now, just like my papa. They are both together now and looking down on us, watching over us. They may not be with us anymore, but their love will always be with us, warming us."

Amélie nodded, tears streaming down her little face. "I wish they could be here still," she cried.

Christine pulled both her daughters close. "So do I," she said.

Xxxx

A few days later, Christine and her daughters arrived in Paris, closely followed by Raoul's body. The funeral was scheduled for the next morning, and tonight Raoul's coffin would be laid out in the de Chagny mansion's ball room, where his relatives and close friends would hold the death watch. As the widow, Christine was required to spend the entire night waking with the others. Mme. Giry had therefore offered to take the girls with her. Isabelle was still too young to fully understand the extent of their loss, but Amélie was deeply affected and would need more attention than Christine would be able to give her because of her duties surrounding the death watch.

Xxxx

It was getting dark already, when a tall, slender gentleman walked down the street which lead to Mme. Giry's home in the suburbs. Erik had arrived in Paris that same morning and was now on his way to his old friend, hoping that Antoinette could provide him with more details on Christine's current situation as well as her state of mind.

Erik knew the neighborhood well enough, even though five years ago he had spent most of the time in that little hut in the garden. Antoinette's house was just a little bit further. He could already see it surrounded by old trees, and there, leaning against the cherry-tree was the hut where he had spent those terrible days after losing Christine. Calling that building a hut was generous, though. It really was more of a shack, but because of its own broken-down appearance it seemed like the ideal place to hide one's own pain and broken heart from the world.

Apparently he was not the only one who felt that way, for when he got nearer to the hut, he could hear soft sobbing coming from inside. Who was hiding in that shack, crying their heart out? Could it be Christine? He did not think so. Erik was convinced that he would recognize Christine's voice anywhere, and he was therefore certain that it could not be her. The sobbing voice was softer, higher, like that of a small child.

Erik's curiosity was aroused. Who could be sobbing in the shack in Antoinette's garden? Cautiously he climbed over the slow fence and approached the hut. The door was slightly ajar. Erik peeked in. It was dark inside, but years of living underground had sharpened Erik's senses and he could see almost as well in darkness as by daylight.

He spotted a small girl, sitting in the darkest corner of the shack. His heart almost stopped at the strong sense of déjà vu. Many years ago he had witnessed a similar scene: a sobbing girl, hunched over, crying her eyes out, mourning her recently departed father. The girl then – his Christine – had been a bit older, this girl here could not be more than four years, but…. The girl from his memory and the girl here in front of him looked so much alike. The sobbing child seemed to be a miniature version of his beloved Christine, except for the lighter hair color, and to Erik's shock, she seemed to face the same problem little Christine had been dealing with all those years ago.

"Papa," Amélie wailed. "Please come back. I miss you so. Please, please, do not leave us alone!"

Erik's heart melted. He had no doubts anymore that he was facing Christine's oldest daughter, and that obviously the Vicomte had already passed away. He barely realized that this meant his rival was finally out of the way, that Christine was free and that he might now have a chance to win her hand. All he could think of at the moment was the child's desperation at having lost a beloved parent. Amélie's sorrow affected him the same way her mother's crying in the Opéra Populaire's chapel had touched him all those years ago and he wanted nothing more than to comfort the lonely child and show her love and understanding.

"Your father is always with you, in your heart," he said softly. "You cannot truly lose him ever. He lives on in your thoughts and memories."

Amélie's sobbing stopped. "Who is there?" she asked uncertainly. She did not recognize the voice, but somehow it soothed her. It was such a beautiful, melodious voice, it felt like a caress, like a balm on an open wound. Even though she was sure she had never met the speaker before, she was not afraid. She knew instinctively that the stranger meant her no harm.

Erik sighed. What should he tell her? He was not going to repeat the lie of being an angel, and he could not tell her he was the former Opera Ghost, who wanted nothing more than to marry her widowed mother and become her step-father.

"A kindred spirit," he finally uttered. "I do not have a father anymore either."

Amélie nodded. "You understand, then," she mumbled.

"Well, yes," Erik said hesitantly. "Though I do not remember my father. He died before I was born."

"Oh!" Amélie felt pity for the stranger. To imagine that that poor man had never been held by his father, never kissed by him, never experienced his father's love. "That is very sad," she told Erik. "You missed out on so much."

Erik wondered for a brief moment what his life might have been like if he had had a father to love him, then concentrated on the girl again.

"When a parent dies," he continued, "they always watch over their children from above. I am sure your father sees your tears right now and they make him sad." It barely registered with Erik that the father in question was _that boy_, all he could think of was that Christine's daughter needed help. He suddenly noticed that the little girl was wearing a night gown.

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" he asked.

Amélie nodded. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "I am too sad. Tomorrow they will carry my papa away and bury him and then he will be completely gone…."

"You still have your mother," Erik reminded her, "and maybe siblings?"

"Maman is very sad as well," Amélie explained, "and my sister … Isabelle is too small, she does not understand…"

"But they love you," Erik continued, "and you love them. You are not alone."

Amélie thought that right now neither her mother nor her sister were of much help to her. Her mother was constantly busy and Isabelle did not understand why Amélie was so devastated. This stranger on the other hand, seemed to understand her perfectly.

"They are not like you," Amélie whispered. "Maman does not have time for us and Isabelle laughed this morning. How can she laugh when our papa…" Tears ran down her cheeks again. "They will put papa into the earth tomorrow…"

"That's why you need to sleep now," Erik told her, "so that you can be strong tomorrow. Neither your father nor your mother would want you to cry so much. Come, I will lead you back to the house…"

Amélie stared at the wall. "I can't sleep," she complained.

Erik smiled. "I promise you, you will be able to sleep," he said, and he began to sing softly to her.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."

Listening to the song, Amélie felt strangely comforted. She did not understand half of what he sang, but somehow his song gave her the feeling as if everything would one day resolve itself and things would be fine again. She relaxed, yawned, suddenly aware of how tired she was, closed her eyes and fell asleep on the floor of the shack.

Careful not to wake her, Erik scooped up the sleeping child and carried her to the house. He knocked on the back door, wondering who would let him in. Would it be Antoinette or her daughter – or was Christine staying there as well, since her daughter was here?

To his relief, it was Antoinette's voice calling "who is there at my back door?"

"Sh," Erik whispered. "Quiet, Antoinette, or you'll wake her!"

"Erik?" Mme. Giry was not sure she had heard correctly. That voice was unmistakable, but how on earth could Erik be in her back yard? She had thought him thousands of miles away in Berlin and unaware of the latest developments in Christine's life.

"Yes, Antoinette," Erik whispered. "It's me, Erik. Let me in and I will explain. But don't wake the child."

Mme. Giry quickly opened the door then gasped, as she noticed Amélie in Erik's arms. "Amélie," she whispered. "Where did you find her?"

"In the shack outside," Erik said curtly. "She was crying about her papa. I managed to calm her down. She is asleep now. Put her to bed, then we can talk."

He handed the sleeping child to Mme. Giry, who carried her to the guest bedroom and laid her into the bed. After tugging her in and making sure that Isabelle was soundly asleep in the other bed, she returned to Erik.

Now that she had made sure that her little charges were all right, safe and sound in their beds, she once again began to wonder how Erik could possibly be here in Paris right now. Was it a coincidence? Did he have some business here that she was not aware of and just happened to be here the day before the Vicomte's funeral? She somewhat doubted it. She did not think that Erik would ever come back to Paris unless there was a really good reason, he certainly would not come when he had to fear the Vicomte. So the question was, did he know that his former rival was dead and no danger to him anymore? But if so, how had he learned about de Chagny's death?

She was eager to get all the details from Erik. When she returned to the parlor, Erik was looking into the fire, his back turned to her. He had taken off his cloak and draped it over a seat.

"Erik," she began softly, fighting the urge to hug him, knowing that it would embarrass him. She had not seen him in over five years and realized now how much she had missed him.

Erik turned around slowly and Mme. Giry gasped. "Your face," she whispered. Erik looked so different, so normal, so – handsome. Then she remembered. "Your new mask," she stammered. "Christine told me about it. I almost did not recognize you."

Erik felt embarrassed by the attention to his mask. "Antoinette, from what the child said out in the shack, the… Vicomte is dead," he changed the topic. "Is that true?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, Erik," she confirmed. "He passed away three days ago and the funeral will be tomorrow. But what are you doing here in Paris?" she asked. "Did you know about his accident? I did not tell you, and Christine most definitely did not either."

"Madame von Reifenstein," Erik explained. „Christine wrote to her. She was worried about Christine, she said the letter sounded depressed and maybe Christine would need a shoulder to cry on."

Mme. Giry sighed. "I am glad you know now," she said. "But Erik, you shouldn't have come. It is too soon. I know that you hope for a future with Christie, and I know that she does love you, and if God listens to my prayers, the two of you will eventually get together. But she is not ready yet. She feels so guilty, since she wanted out of this marriage because of her love for you, and now that she is free because of such a tragedy, she thinks that fate is mocking her, that somehow she got what she wanted but at her husband's expenses. To her it is almost as if she had wanted him to die. You know how sensitive she is. This does affect her badly. She will need time to sort out her feelings and to deal with the shock this tragedy has caused her. Give her time, Erik. That's what she needs now. Time to think, to get to terms with her emotions. Also," Mme. Giry hesitated, "she will not be truly free for another year. As a member of the nobility she has to follow their rules, and a full year of mourning is one of them. She will not be able to enter another engagement before then."

Erik groaned. "Am I understanding you correctly, Antoinette?" he asked. "Are you telling me that I cannot see Christine now, that I have to leave her to her depression, wait another year and hope that she will then want me when I have not offered her any support at her time of need?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "I really don't see how you could stay in Paris now and see her regularly," she explained. "And at the moment she is under enough emotional stress already, seeing you now might add to it. Believe me, it is for her best, if I ask you to stay away now. But I promise you that, once the year of mourning is over, and she has not contacted you on her own, I will help you meet her, and during this year I will do my best to make her see that she is not to blame for the Vicomte's death in any way, shape or form and that now that she is free again, she should follow her heart."

Erik sighed. "The funeral is tomorrow?" he asked. And as Mme. Giry nodded, he added softly, "maybe I can see her from afar there, be there for her, even though she does not know it…"

Mme. Giry thought about it for a moment. "There certainly will be a huge crowd," she said then. "The de Chagnys are related to half the noble families of France, the Vicomte had friends and business partners, and his family was supporting the arts…. One person more or less may not be a problem. But be careful not to be recognized."

Then she remembered something. "Where are you going to stay tonight, Erik?" she asked. "You cannot stay here, as you have seen, Christine's children are here, they would tell her…"

Erik smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "Nadir is still keeping his old apartment, and gave me his keys. I am staying there. But as to the children, seeing that one of them already met me…"

"It was a dream," Mme. Giry quickly jumped in. "Amélie was exhausted. She dreamed going out and meeting you. It never really happened."

Erik gave her an uncertain look. He had a feeling that little Amélie would not easily be convinced that it had all been a dream. A wave of tenderness washed through him at the thought that hopefully, one day, that little girl would be his stepdaughter.

"I do not want to lie to yet another fatherless little girl," he stated flatly. "And I do not want Amélie to get hurt. She may not be my stepdaughter yet, but she is Christine's daughter, and therefore I feel responsible for her."

"_You_ will not be the one lying to her," Mme. Giry corrected him. "I will. But maybe it is for the best that the two of you met today, I have an idea …."


	25. Funeral

Once again, thank you all for reading, reviewing, putting on alert or adding to favorites, especially considering the problems with this site last week, keeping you from accessing the latest chapter for hours, which must have been really annoying.

Anyway, here is the next chapter, which contains another reason why I wanted Christine to have daughters in this story...

I still don't own anything or anybody, I know that sucks, but that's life!

Chapter 25 – Funeral

When Amélie woke the next morning, she felt well rested and more at ease than she had since her father's death. "Papa still watches over me," she thought, "he does not want me to cry. I must be strong." Memories of a deep melodious voice telling her that he had never known his father suddenly made her realize how lucky she was. She had had her dear papa for four years, had experienced his love, his hugs and kisses, his gifts… She smiled at the thought of the sheep and lamb waiting for them back home in Brittany. That poor man she had talked to last night, though, had had none of that. He had never met his father and yet… she had sensed that he missed the unknown parent, that he wished he could have had him in his life.

Amélie sat up straight. Who was that man she had talked to last night? What had he been doing in auntie 'Toinette's garden? He had not sounded like a worker, someone paid to help with the garden, and such a person would not have been there at such a late hour anyway. It had already been too dark to work in the garden. Had he been a visitor then, a friend of auntie 'Toinette's? Yes, that was more likely. Auntie would know who he was. She would ask her about him.

Therefore, once the two sisters were sitting with Mme. Giry and Meg around the breakfast table, Amélie looked at the elder woman and asked, "auntie 'Toinette, who was that gentleman last night? In your garden?"

Meg stared into her plate to hide her unease. She had not been home the previous night since she had been performing, but her mother had told her all about Erik's visit and she was now curious to hear how her mother would present that fact to the children.

"Who are you talking about, Amélie?" Mme. Giry asked calmly. "I do not remember seeing a gentleman in my garden."

"It was last night," Amélie explained. "I could not sleep, I was so sad. So I sneaked out and hid in that hut of yours and cried. And there he was, he talked to me. He has no papa anymore either. He understood what it is like. He had such a beautiful, soothing voice…."

Mme. Giry shook her head. "You must have dreamed this, Amélie," she said. "You never left the house last night."

Amélie frowned. She clearly remembered going out into the garden once her sister had fallen asleep. And she also remembered her conversation with the stranger and his very characteristic voice that had comforted her so much. "I did go out," she insisted. "It was no dream."

Mme. Giry looked at her. "And then you walked back in and went to bed?" she asked sternly.

Amélie hesitated. She did not remember that part. The man had started to sing and then… the next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed. "I don't know," she admitted sheepishly. Could it have been a dream after all? "It was so real," she added.

Mme. Giry smiled at her. "Sometimes dreams seem very real," she explained.

"He even sang to me," Amélie tried again. Surely this must have been real? Why on earth would she dream of somebody singing to her when singing or music in general played no part whatsoever in her life? Her papa had not liked it and therefore there had never been any music at their home.

"You felt comforted by the singing?" Mme. Giry asked. Apparently Erik had really helped Amélie, which was a good thing. It gave her hope that Amélie would accept him as her stepfather once the time would be right. It was important to win over Amélie. Isabelle usually tended to agree with her older sister. If the children liked Erik…

Amélie nodded enthusiastically. "It was wonderful," she said. "I was not sad anymore. I knew that things will get better again, that one day we will be happy again."

Mme. Giry beamed. "That sounds wonderful," she stated, "and I am convinced now that your dear papa sent you this dream to comfort you. Things like that happen sometimes. When your grandfather died, he promised your mother that he would send her an angel to comfort her, the Angel of Music."

Amélie's eyes widened. "An angel," she whispered. "And… did he? Send her the angel, I mean?"

"Yes and no," Mme. Giry replied mysteriously. "You should ask your mother about her angel one day. Not right now, maybe in a week or so, when things have calmed down a bit. But I do believe that her father kept his promise after all…" She let her voice trail, making sure the children's curiosity was piqued. She was very satisfied with herself. She had more or less succeeded in keeping Erik's presence a secret by convincing Amélie that it had all been a dream, and she had made sure that the children would ask Christine about her father's story and the Angel of Music. Hopefully this would help Christine realize where she belonged.

Xxxx

Dressed in his usual black, a wide-brimmed hat on his head to hide his features as much as possible, Erik joined the huge crowd of mourners at the funeral of Raoul de Chagny. He had briefly spotted Antoinette and her daughter, but had stayed away from them. If anybody wondered who he was, it was best not to show his connection with the Girys.

Christine and her daughters immediately followed the coffin, of course. Erik's heart broke for her. Christine was only a shadow of her former self. Her pale, drawn face looked even whiter next to the deep black of her dress and jacket, her skin appearing almost translucent. The children were at her sides. To her left he spotted the younger one. Erik was surprised to see that the little girl's hair was straight. Somehow he had expected both of Christine's daughters to have a head full of unruly curls. But the color of the little one's hair was the exact same shade as her mother's and when she turned around, bored to death with the lengthy service, he could see that she had Christine's eyes. Erik smiled. This girl obviously came more after her father's side of the family, but there was enough of Christine in her that he would be able to love her.

Erik turned his attention to the child walking on Christine's other side. There she was, his little friend from last night, Amélie. She was fighting tears again, but trying her best not to cry. How brave she was! And how much she resembled her mother despite the lighter hair color! A wave of tenderness washed through Erik. She was doing great. She was suppressing her sorrow and being strong, because neither her father nor her mother would want her to cry. He knew then, that he already loved Amélie.

Erik wished he could walk up to Christine and the children, pull all three of them into his embrace and comfort them. But this was neither the right place nor the right time. Hopefully one day, though….

"A family," he thought. "Maybe, one day we could be a family…"

Xxxx

Christine followed her husband's coffin, her two little girls at her sides. She was completely exhausted. The last few days had put an enormous strain on her, both physically and emotionally. Deep down she felt as if she had somehow failed Raoul. She had not loved him the way she should have, had even secretly wished to be free of this marriage, she had not given him the son he had wanted so much, and she had – albeit only for a few weeks – disregarded his wish for her not to sing ever again. And now it was too late. Now she would never be able to make it up to him, to be the wife he deserved and that she had promised to be with her marriage vows.

Keeping busy had somewhat helped her deal with her feelings of loss and guilt, the various tasks connected with organizing the funeral had kept her mind off these things, but the quiet death watch the previous night had given her ample opportunity to dwell on thoughts of her perceived guilt again. What if her husband's death was somehow caused by her desire to be free? She felt as if she had secretly wanted him to die…

The physical exhaustion caused by the lack of sleep did not help either. When she had left the mansion to pick up her daughters and proceed to the cemetery with them, she had not been sure how she could possibly get through the service, but once at the cemetery, where a huge crowd had already assembled to pay their last respects to Raoul, she felt strangely reassured. She took up her position in front of the funeral procession and smiled, when she felt Amélie's tiny hand in hers and her daughter whispered, "we can never truly lose him. Papa's love is still with us."

Xxxxx

After the funeral, the relatives and closest friends of Raoul were invited to lunch at the de Chagny mansion . Christine had to play hostess, the children therefore once again went with Mme. Giry.

Christine sat through the whole meal unable to eat much and wishing that this horrible event would finally be over and the guests leave. She wanted to be alone. The reassurance she had felt at the cemetery was gone, she once again felt hopeless and depleted and wanted nothing more than to get away from it all and rest.

Finally lunch was over and the guests began to file out, until only Raoul's cousin Édouard and his wife Cécile-Louise remained. Christine sighed. She barely knew the couple and therefore did not feel at ease with them. She also felt slightly annoyed that these two used their status as close family members to lag behind, but she remained civil and politely asked if she could offer them something else?

"We need to talk," Cécile-Louise coldly stated, giving her husband an encouraging look.

"Yes," Édouard agreed with his wife. "We wanted to ask you, cousine, what your plans for the future are?"

Christine did not see how this was any of their concern, but forced herself to remain calm. "I think the girls will be happiest in Brittany," she stated softly. "But we will come here on occasion to visit the cemetery and meet with friends."

To her utter shock, Cécile-Louise indignantly shook her head and Édouard explained, "I am afraid this will not be possible."

Christine gave him a quizzical look. "Why not?" she asked as calmly as possible, trying to hide the feeling of utter dread that suddenly permeated her.

"Both, the estate in Brittany and the mansion in Paris belong to me now," Édouard condescendingly enlightened Christine. "Since my dear cousin Raoul left no male heir, I am the new Vicomte de Chagny and sole owner of the family estate." At Christine's quick intake of breath he added, "well, except for the villa in Dijon, that has always been the refuge of widowed or orphaned family members, but I am afraid, space there is limited…"

Christine nodded. Raoul's bed-ridden father and her frail, sickly mother-in-law lived there. Technically, Raoul's father was still the Comte, but he had handed over the reins to his son long ago and retired to the family refuge. His condition had prevented him and his wife from coming to Paris for the funeral.

Christine bit her lip. She knew the villa in Dijon. It might be large enough for an elderly couple, but would not hold her and her two girls in addition to her in-laws. Of course it might barely be fitting for herself and her daughters and the old Comte certainly would be entitled to live either in Paris or Brittany, but could she chase the sick old man from his home?

"I see," she finally muttered. "I will have to look for an apartment then. How much money will be at my disposition?"

Édouard and Cécile-Louise stared at her incredulously. "Why do you ask us? Are we your bankers?" Cécile-Louise asked.

Christine took a deep breath to steady herself, then said calmly, "I thought you might know what sum Raoul has left me, since you seem so well informed…"

Cécile-Louise laughed shrilly. "Raoul did not leave a will, and it is not as if he had had much personal money to leave to you and his precious little princesses anyway, since it's all family-owned. According to our family laws, you and the girls will be entitled to the widow's and orphans' stipend of 500 francs a month each, and the girls will be granted a dowry of 5000 francs each when they get married."

Christine paled. She had next to no money herself, a few thousand francs of savings from her salaries at the Opéra Populaire was all she possessed. The 1500 francs a month that she and her daughters would have at their disposition would barely suffice to rent a very small apartment and pay for food and clothes. Her little princesses would be lacking all the comfort they were used to and she would have to do all the housework herself.

"Of course you are free to return to… your previous lifestyle," Édouard commented. "But you will wait at least until the full year of mourning for our dear departed Raoul has passed, and you will have to give up the de Chagny-name and with it all rights and entitlements of a de Chagny-widow."

Christine nodded. She knew she was not welcome here any longer. She had never really been a part of this family, they had merely tolerated her for Raoul's sake. She suddenly had no desire to stay for another minute. "Mme. Giry," she thought. "She will let us stay for the next few days, till I find us another home," and resolutely she turned to Raoul's relatives. "If you give me a few minutes to pack a bag, I will be gone. I will let you now where to send my and my children's personal belongings within the next few days. I will not take any jewelry other than my wedding band and the golden cross pendants Raoul gave our daughters at their christenings."

She turned on her heels and walked out of the room, her head held high, proud as a queen.

Xxxx

Christine's pride vanished the moment she crossed the threshold of Mme. Giry's house. She sank into a chair sobbing and told her surrogate mother that she and the girls had basically been chased from their home. "I could not stay there for another moment," she cried, "not when I sensed their hostility. I had to leave at once. Please tell me we can stay till I have found us a home…"

Mme. Giry patted her on the shoulder. "This is your home now, Christine," she said, "yours and the children's. You can have the small guestroom which has never been used anyway, and the girls stay where they are. Give order to have your belongings brought here, and insist on the sheep. Raoul would want the girls to keep them. We can put them up in the shack in the garden. You can help me with the household chores and pay for the food the three of you consume, the rest of your money should then be enough to keep you and the children well dressed. It will all work out fine, you'll see."

Inwardly she beamed. That new development was working in Erik's favor. Considering the urgency, with which the de Chagnys had gotten rid of Christine and her children, it was safe to assume that they would have no objections to her getting married again and moving to Berlin with her daughters.

Christine hugged her surrogate mother. "Thank you," she whispered. "We will try our best not to be in your way…"

"Nonsense," Mme. Giry grumbled. "You are not in the way, neither are your two lovely girls. Meg and I will be delighted to have you and the little Vicomtesses with us. Remember the Opéra Populaire? How many young women and little girls used to live in the dorms? It will be just like in the old days…"

Christine smiled, tears in her eyes, then she remembered something. "I do not think we are Vicomtesses anymore," she stammered. "Raoul's cousin is the new Vicomte. We are just poor relatives without a title. I guess I am simply Madame de Chagny now and my daughters are Mlle. Amélie and Mlle. Isabelle de Chagny." She gasped as yet another realization hit her. "That's why Raoul always wanted a son so badly. Even after his accident, he still told me that we should have had a son. He knew about the family law. He knew that the title and the family estate would go to his closest male relative. If I had a son, he would be the next Vicomte and we could all have stayed in our home…."

"Yeah," Mme. Giry thought, "and it would have been next to impossible for you to marry Erik and move to Berlin with your children once the period of mourning will be over." Aloud she said, "it all happens for a reason, even if that reason is not immediately obvious. Maybe if you had a son, the family might have wanted to take control over his education or something. I don't think they will bother too much about the girls."

Christine smiled. This was so much like her surrogate mother to find a positive side even to the bleakest situation. "You are right," she admitted. "A boy would have belonged to the de Chagnys, the girls are mine. Where are they, by the way?"

Mme. Giry returned the smile. "They are napping. The funeral was a bit much for them, so I put them to bed after lunch. They will probably wake up soon, though, and then they will need you. Why don't you take a seat while waiting for them to wake up and write down instructions for the de Chagny staff in Brittany and Paris what exactly to pack for the three of you and to deliver it all here?"


	26. Angel

Well... there is light at the end of the tunnel. Mme. Giry is trying her best to get our lovebirds together. Thank you all for your continued support, by reading, reviewing this one and my previous stories, putting this one on alert or adding any of them to your favorites your favorites. My next story will probably premiere soon, so keep an eye out for it. It will be called "So lost, so hepless".

Anyway, on to the next chapter. I still don't own anything or anybody, except for two thirds of the AAG-conspiracy that's working towards a happy E/C-ending.

Chapter 26 – Angel

When Amélie and Isabelle woke up from their nap that afternoon, they were at first a bit shocked to learn that they would not be going home ever again, not to the house in Paris and not to their home in Brittany either. They would stay at auntie 'Toinette's house from now on with their mother.

"Don't be so upset," Christine tried to comfort them. "We will all be together that way. You can see auntie 'Toinette and auntie Meg every day…"

"But we don't have our things here," Amélie complained. "Our toys and clothes, our picture books, and our sheep!" she sniffled.

Christine forced a smile on her face. "I have already asked for our things to be brought here. I am sure that the items we have here in Paris will be delivered tomorrow at the latest, those from Brittany will take a few days, but we will eventually get them. We will even be able to keep the sheep. The garden here is large enough for them, and they can live in the little hut under the cherry tree. You will see, we will be fine."

"But why," Amélie asked, tears in her eyes. "Why can we not go back to Brittany? I liked the meadows and the coast and the sea…"

"Me too," Christine admitted. "But since your uncle Édouard now owns the house we cannot stay there. He needs it for his own family."

Amélie and Isabelle looked at each other in shock. They had met their uncle only once, but they had not liked him at all, and his wife had made an even worse impression on them. The way she had looked at them had been intimidating and she had treated them like vermin.

"We do not want to go there if uncle Édouard is there," Amélie stated and Isabelle confirmed, "We not go to uncle Édouard."

Christine smiled. "Then it's agreed that we stay here," she said, pulling her daughters in a tight embrace, and both girls nodded.

Xxxx

The next day, their stuff was brought over from the de Chagny townhouse, and a few days later, the rest of their belongings arrived from Brittany, and again a day later, one of the farm hands delivered the sheep.

The children were excited to help unpack all their possessions and find places for them in their new room. When the sheep finally arrived and were shown to their new "stable", Amélie remembered her vivid dream from the night before her father's funeral. Had it really been a dream? She remembered the interior of the shack so clearly and she had not been in there before. But when she went in now with the woolly pets, it all felt familiar. There in the corner was the pile of fire wood, next to which she had been cowering, when the voice spoke to her.

Amélie had not seen the stranger, at least not clearly. It had been dark. She had only heard his voice, this beautiful, soothing voice. He had talked to her and then he had begun to sing to her softly…. Amélie frowned. What was it her auntie 'Toinette had mentioned the next morning? Something about her grandfather promising maman to send her an angel… of music? She had never heard about such an angel, but she suddenly had a feeling as if her grandfather's angel had visited her that night.

"Maman," Amélie addressed Christine, all of a sudden anxious to learn as much as possible about this otherworldly being. "Is it true that your papa told you he would send you an angel after his death, an angel of music?"

Christine paled. She was assaulted by a turmoil of emotions at the mentioning of her angel. That was about the last question she had expected from her daughter. "Where… how…," she stammered, "who told you about that?"

Mme. Giry put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I told her," she said calmly. "Amélie had a very realistic dream about meeting a stranger in the garden, who talked to her and soothed her. So I told her that sometimes our dear departed ones try to comfort us through dreams and such and as an example I mentioned your father's promise to send you the Angel of Music," she added.

Christine felt dizzy. What was she supposed to tell her children now? How much had Mme. Giry already revealed to them? They did not even know that she had once been a chorus girl at the Opéra Populaire and danced there side by side with Meg. Raoul had always insisted on forgetting the past, on putting all those things behind. How would he feel about her sharing her past now with their daughters?

"Please tell us, maman," Amélie begged. "Did your papa send you the angel? Did you meet him and talk to him? Do you think he will send us an angel as well, or maybe our papa will?"

Christine shook her head. Not now. She most definitely did not feel up to discussing a certain angel and her very strong feelings for him right now. But she had to give Amélie _some_ answer. She could not entirely dismiss her daughter's question.

"I need to think about it and try to remember," she finally promised with unsteady voice. "This all happened so long ago, it has been roughly fifteen years since my father died. Maybe in a few days…"

Amélie nodded. She could wait a few days, if that meant that her mother would remember things better and she would therefore get more details. One thing puzzled her, though. Her mother had seemed reluctant to discuss this angel. It was almost as if being reminded of him had caused her mother pain, whereas Amélie's memory of him was wonderfully comforting. She was convinced now, that her grandfather or her dear papa, possibly both, had sent the angel to her as well and she had met him that night in the garden. Whether it had been a dream or reality she still was not certain, but she knew without a doubt that she had been contacted by the Angel of Music. Surely nobody but an angel could have such a heavenly voice.

Xxxx

That evening, after the children had gone to bed and been tucked in by her, Christine confronted Mme. Giry. "Why did you have to mention the angel to Amélie?" she asked, her heart heavy with guilt about how she had hurt both, Raoul and Erik, over the past five years.

"Because she met him," Mme. Giry stated gravely. "And because I think the girls deserve the truth. About your past, about your angel."

Christine stared at her. "What do you mean she met him?" she asked. "How can Amélie have met the Angel of Music, when there is no such being?" Her eyes suddenly widened, as realization hit her. "Erik," she whispered. "Erik was here? Amélie met him?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "I tried to convince her that it was a dream, but yes, they met."

"Oh my God," Christine began to shake violently. "But how… where…" She finally managed to focus on the most important questions. "Is Erik here?" she asked, "does he know…?"

Mme. Giry patted Christine's arm. "He is back in Berlin by now," she explained, "but yes, he was here, and yes, he knows about your husband. Your friend told him, Madame von Reifenstein. You wrote to her, didn't you?"

"Yes," Christine acknowledged feebly, "I sent her a letter right after Raoul had the accident." She was getting nervous now. What exactly had she told Gertraud in that letter? She had probably been in shock when she wrote it. And how much of her confused scribblings had Gertraud revealed to Erik?

"Why did he come?" Christine asked, her voice pained. "What did he want here in Paris where he may not be safe?"

"You," Mme. Giry let that thought sink in, before she softly continued. "He wanted to see you and to offer a shoulder to cry on. They were worried about you, him and your friend Gertraud. He needed to make sure you were all right."

"Me," Christine sobbed. "He risked being caught to see me…" How strong and deep his love for her was! Could she really turn from him now, from his love, out of a sense of duty to her dead husband, as she thought she must do? Or would she not cause even more pain in doing so and thus increase her guilt?

"Because of you," Mme. Giry confirmed. "He came back to this city of terrible memories, for you." She smiled at Christine encouragingly. "I thought it would be too much for you to see him unexpectedly. You had already so much to deal with and you were about to collapse, your nerves on edge. He understood this, Christine," Mme. Giry emphasized, trying to make Christine realize just how deeply Erik loved her. After a short pause, she continued, "he did not leave Paris without seeing you, though."

Christine gave her a puzzled look. "How could he have seen me? I was mostly at home, organizing the … oh!" she stammered, as it dawned on her. "The funeral. He was there, was he not?" A forlorn little smile embellished her drawn features for a moment. "I should have known. When I arrived at the cemetery, I suddenly felt so reassured, so at peace. I must have sensed his presence somehow…"

Mme. Giry smiled. "He knows it is too soon," she continued. "That's why he returned to Berlin. He is not asking anything of you yet. He is willing to give you all the time you need to get to terms with what happened and to mourn Raoul properly. He will wait for you, till you are ready."

Christine's face was bathed in tears now. "He loves me so much," she cried, "but how can I even think about love after what has happened to my husband?"

Mme. Giry let her cry. "You do not need to decide anytime soon," she tried to calm Christine. "You have a whole year. But please keep in mind that it is not just your future happiness at stake, but Erik's as well…"

Christine nodded under tears, when she remembered something. "You said, Amélie and Erik met," she asked. "How and when did this happen?"

Mme. Giry smiled. "I think the two of them actually hit it off right away," she said, thinking of how lovingly Erik had cradled the little girl in his arms. "It was the night of the death watch. Amélie could not sleep, she was too distressed. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to sneak out of the house and into the garden unnoticed. She hid in that old shack, where we now keep the sheep, and cried. Erik was on his way to see me. He wanted to ask me about you and your husband's condition, he only knew that Raoul had had an accident and was dying, but not if he was dead already or not. He therefore came to get the latest news from me, but when he passed the garden he heard sobbing. He jumped over the fence to see who was crying and found Amélie in the hut. I don't think she saw him clearly, after all, it was dark already, but you know how well he can see in the dark and how much Amélie resembles you."

When Christine nodded, Mme. Giry continued. "It must have been a strange sense of déjà vu for him," she reminded Christine, "finding a fatherless, little girl, crying alone in the dark, mourning her dear papa."

Christine shivered. What a coincidence! Approximately fifteen years ago, she had been the orphaned girl comforted by the disembodied voice of her "angel". She still remembered this fateful first encounter with the man, that had become the most important person in her life for many years, and whose unconditional love was still watching over her despite all the pain she had caused him, and had now comforted her daughter.

"He talked to her." It was more a statement than a question.

Mme. Giry nodded. "I do not know what exactly he told her, but it comforted her and his voice soothed her."

Christine smiled. Oh, she understood only too well! Fifteen years ago, Erik's warm, melodious voice had comforted her even more than his words.

"When she mentioned that she could not sleep, he sang to her," Mme. Giry continued. "And once she had dozed off, he scooped her up and brought her to me. You should have seen him with your daughter in his arms," she added. "He was utterly gentle and concerned that I might wake her again. And Amélie… well, the next day, she asked me about the man in my garden. She seemed eager to meet him, she repeated that he understood, since he did not have a papa himself…"

"Yet you told her, it had been a dream," Christine interrupted her, "why?"

"I was not sure how much you want to tell the children," Mme. Giry explained apologetically. "But I think you should tell them _something_. About Erik, about your time at the Opéra Populaire. They deserve the truth about your past and they need to know who Erik is, when…" She paused, then added hesitantly, "when the time will finally be right for the two of you."

Christine blushed deeply. Would there ever be a time for her and Erik? Could they ever be together now or would Raoul's violent death stand between them forever?

"I am not sure such a time will ever come," she whispered. "I really do not know if there is a way for me and Erik, and as to my past… I am not sure either. Raoul certainly would not have wanted our girls to know that I once was a prima donna…"

"Considering your social status at that time, trying to forget about your past and to make people forget about it, may have been justified and necessary," Mme. Giry reminded her, inwardly cursing Raoul for being so ashamed of his wife's former profession. "But you do not belong to that family anymore. They cast you out, you and the girls. You do not have to take their feelings into consideration any longer. You can finally reveal your past to your children. They have a right to know the truth about their parents…"

Christine sighed. She knew Mme. Giry was right. Her daughters needed to know who she really was, who she had been before briefly becoming a Vicomtesse. "I will tell them," she finally vowed. "I just have to think about what I want them to know and how I must phrase it…."

"Take your time," Mme. Giry agreed, "and think it over. But don't wait too long."

Xxxx

A few days later it was raining and Christine and the children were therefore confined to their rooms, unable to play in the garden and pet the sheep. The girls soon got bored and asked their mother to play with them. "Or how about a story?" Amélie suggested, then added cautiously, "do you remember it all now? About the Angel of Music?"

Christine nodded. She did not feel anywhere near ready to tell her story, but she knew she could not wait any longer.

"I never had a family," she began. "Only ever my papa. My mother died when I was born and I had no brothers or sisters, nobody but my papa."

Amélie nodded. She remembered how that voice had reminded her of her mother and sister. Compared to her mother's situation at her father's death, she and Isabelle were truly lucky to have some family left.

"I was a bit older than you are now, about seven years," Christine explained, "when my papa fell ill. He knew that he was going to die soon and that I would be all alone. To comfort me, he therefore promised that he would send me the Angel of Music to teach me and to watch over me."

"Why the Angel of Music?" Amélie asked. "Why not any other angel?"

"Because we were musicians," Christine explained. "Papa played the violin and I sang. Papa hoped that when I would be older I would be able to sing in theaters. Then he died." Christine's voice shook. Even after all those years it was painful to think of her father's death. "He had made arrangements for me to live in the dorms at the Opéra Populaire and to train to become a ballerina."

Her daughters' eyes widened. "Like auntie Meg?" they asked. "Did you enjoy it? Were you as good as her?"

Christine nodded. "Not quite as good as her, but that's how I met them, Meg and her mother. Auntie 'Toinette was instructing the dancers. She had been a dancer once, but was too old now to dance herself. At first I was not interested in dancing or anything. I missed my dear papa so much. I always went to the little chapel at the Opéra to light a candle for papa and to beg him to finally send me the promised angel, and then…"

"You heard him," Amélie guessed. "He spoke to you, the angel. His voice was soft and warm and wonderful…" Her eyes gleamed, as she remembered her own encounter with what she was now convinced was her mother's angel. "And he said things that comforted you?"

Christine nodded. "It seemed so unreal. There was nobody in the chapel but me, yet I heard this voice and I felt better." She looked into the far distance, remembering that long-gone day, when she had heard Erik's voice for the first time.

"I know," Amélie retorted, feeling incredibly important. "Just like when he talked to me. Nobody was in the garden. At least, I could not see anybody. It was night. I just heard this beautiful voice. He talked to me and sang to me, and I was not sad anymore. It was, as if one day all would be well again, we would all be happy again, one day."

Christine hugged her daughter. "I hope so," she said, trying hard to suppress tears, inwardly thanking her angel for having done the same thing for her daughter as he had done for her so many years ago, and once again she pondered if she had the right to turn away from so much love.


	27. Friendship

Thank you all for your reviews, for reading all my stories, including the new one, which will hopefully be updated within the next few days. As some of you hoped, there is more about Christine and her angel and their shared past in this new chapter. I hope you like it!

I still don't own anything or anybody, except for two thirds of the AAG-conspiracy, as I mentioned in the last chapter. I am surprised that nobody asked what that meant. Or have you all figured it out so easily?

Chapter 27 – Friendship

"Did he sing to you as well, the angel?" Amélie's question interrupted Christine's thoughts. "To me he did," the girl added. "To make me sleep. It was a beautiful song about night and music."

"And love," Christine thought. She had a feeling she knew exactly what song had lulled Amélie to sleep that night. Fighting back tears she thought back to when Erik had sung to her about the fascinating connection between music and night. She had been overwhelmed then by the almost dreamlike experience of travelling down to his lair, immediately following her successful debut on stage and her reunion with her childhood sweetheart, and she had been way too young and inexperienced to understand and appreciate the depth of Erik' feelings for her and to realize just how much he meant to her.

"The music of the night," Christine whispered dreamily, then softly began to sing. "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation…"

Amélie gasped. The angel's song! Her mother was singing it right now. There was no doubt in her heart anymore that the person who had comforted her that night – whether in dream or in reality she still was not sure – had been the Angel of Music. "That's the song!" Amélie exclaimed excitedly. "How did you know, did he sing it to you as well?"

Christine stared into the distance, her mind filled with memories of those days, when she had dreamed of her angel becoming a real person, a man who would love her and whom she could love in return.

"No," Christine shook her head. "At least not that first night. That was much later."

Amélie's eyes widened. "You met him more often? Will I meet him again as well?" she asked eagerly.

Christine smiled at her daughter. "Would you like to meet him again?" she asked.

Amélie nodded excitedly. "Very much so," she declared. "He really understands. He did not think I was stupid for crying in the dark. And he sang so beautifully…"

Christine looked at her pensively. Was it possible that her little daughter had become attached to Erik already after their brief encounter? To judge from her own reaction to him all those years ago, it certainly was conceivable that Amélie had been deeply touched by him.

"That's how I felt about the angel as well," she admitted. "I did not feel so alone anymore. I knew then that my dear papa still loved me and had sent me this angel to watch over me and guide me."

Amélie beamed. "Auntie 'Toinette also thinks that my papa sent me the angel in my dream to comfort me," she announced.

Christine winced. "Maybe it was your grandfather who led him to you," she said hesitantly. Somehow she could not imagine Raoul's spirit sending Erik their way. "After all, he was the one who loved music…"

Amélie frowned. "Papa did not like music," she remembered.

"Your father had his reasons," Christine told her daughter.

The girls nodded. Of course. Their papa would do nothing without a reason. "But the angel," Amélie returned to their previous topic. "You met him again?"

Christine smiled. "Almost every day," she remembered. "Whenever I came to the chapel he was there. I never saw him, I only ever heard his voice. At first we only talked, but when he learned that papa had been a violinist and I used to sing, he was intrigued. He asked me to sing for him as well. Of course I was nervous and felt stupid singing in front of the Angel of Music, but once I had finished my simple folksong, he told me he would help me achieve my and my father's dream. He would teach me to sing, so that one day I could sing the lead in an opera. And he said that once I would be ready, I would sing to make the angels weep."

Amélie looked puzzled. "I thought you already could sing?" she asked. "Why did he have to teach you then?"

Christine laughed, probably for the first time since her husband's death. "Silly," she said. "Of course I had a lot to learn. The songs in an opera are much more difficult to sing than simple folksongs. One has to reach much higher notes for instance and sing long phrases without breathing in between. Once we started our lessons, we met every day in the chapel. He accompanied me on a violin, just like my papa had done…" Christine's face lit up at the happy memories of her years as Erik's student. How he had nurtured her, formed her voice… and found his way into her heart.

"Was it difficult?" Amélie asked. "To learn all this?"

Christine shook her head. "No," she had nothing but fond memories of those times. "That is," she corrected herself, "there were of course days when I was tired and could not concentrate. Sometimes he was not satisfied with me at all." She giggled at the memory of Erik's annoyed voice scolding her from behind the walls. How could she ever have mistaken him for an angel? Weren't angels supposed to be endlessly patient?

"And you never saw him?" Amélie's next question made Christine a bit uneasy. Of course she had to tell their daughters that her teacher was a flesh and blood man. They needed to understand that angels did not interact with humans in such a way. But how much did she have to reveal about Erik and his life as the Opera Ghost?

"Years went by," she began hesitantly, "and I never saw him, but the older I got, the more I wished to meet him. You see, after all that time we had become quite close. I considered my angel my best friend. He did not just help me with my voice, I could discuss everything with him. I guess, deep down I always knew that he was real, that he was a human being just like myself and I longed to see my friend's face."

"It was no angel?" Amélie was puzzled. "But how could he teach you how to sing without you seeing him?"

"No, he was no angel," Christine explained. "But I only knew that for sure the night of my debut. That's when he finally told me the truth."

"What is a debut, maman?" Amélie wanted to know. She had never heard that word before.

"That is when a new singer gets to sing a solo part for the first time," Christine explained. "I had not expected to get such a chance so soon, but the prima donna we had at that time…"

"What is a prima donna?" Amélie asked again.

"A prima donna is the main female singer of a theater," Christine enlightened her daughters. "The one that always sings the female lead. As I was saying, we had a prima donna, her name was Carlotta. She was the star of the Opéra Populaire at that time. She had quite a temper, though, and she always wanted to be treated like a queen. One day, during rehearsal, something made her angry and she walked out on us, leaving us without a female lead. That's when your auntie 'Toinette, who knew that I had studied all the songs with … my teacher, suggested I should be given the chance. So I was allowed to sing and play the role of Elyssa in an opera called "Hannibal". And afterwards…" Christine's eyes took on a dreamy look. "Afterwards my angel came to me and explained it all."

"How did he do it?" Amélie asked, curious to get an explanation for the disembodied voice.

Christine smiled. "He had always been next door, he had talked to me through the walls. The walls were apparently thinner than they looked and the acoustics were great, so we could hear each other perfectly."

"But why?" Amélie asked. "Why did he make you think he was an angel? You were friends, weren't you? You could have done things together…"

Christine nodded. "Yes, we were friends in the end. But you know how it is with friends. There is a time when you meet for the first time and you do not know each other yet. And there might be things about you that you would not want your new friend to know, like maybe if they found out that you did something stupid that morning, they might think you are always stupid, since they do not know you yet at all. Do you understand?"

Both girls nodded. Yes, they could see how such a situation might be awkward. "So what did he do that he did not want you to know about?" Amélie asked.

"It was more that he did not want me to see his face," Christine said hesitantly, avoiding the question of things Erik had done that he might have wanted her not to know. "You see, when my poor angel was born, something went terribly wrong. His face is disfigured. That means, it looks different," she explained the unfamiliar word to her offspring. "To be precise, only half of his face looks normal, the right side is a mess. Because of this, people fear him or loathe him and he has been treated poorly all his life." Christine sighed. "He told me that even his own mother found his face revolting and forced him to cover it with a mask."

"Oh, the poor man!" Amélie exclaimed. "Poor," Isabelle echoed.

Christine nodded. "Yes, but that's the reason why he did not want me to see him. When he heard me cry in that chapel, begging my dear papa to come back to me or to at least send me the Angel of Music as promised, he understood that I needed somebody, a teacher or friend, somebody that could take my father's place and watch over me in my papa's stead. But he feared that his face would scare me or disgust me and that therefore he would not be able to help me if I saw him. That's why he stayed next door and only talked to me through the walls."

Amélie nodded. "That was a good idea," she admitted. "But once you knew him a bit, he could have told you the truth?"

"It took a lot of courage for him to tell me," Christine explained. "He had suffered so much because of his face. Even after all those years of our friendship he feared he would lose me if I ever saw his face."

"The stupid angel!" Amélie shook her head. "So he is ugly, but you already knew how nice a person he was. You would not have dumped your friend." She paused and frowned. She could not remember a friend of her mother's that fit the description of a disfigured right side of the face. "You did not?" she asked hesitantly.

Christine looked down. "I admit that I was not prepared for his face," she admitted guiltily. "But I did get used to it in the end." She smiled at the thought of Erik's face, which, despite its ugliness was the face of the man she loved. "There were other things, though," she continued. "A lot happened in a very short time, and at one point I lost my trust in my friend. I hurt him badly," she admitted, tears running freely down her face now. "Twice," she added softly. "I turned away from him and caused him pain twice."

Amélie began to sniffle. She felt bad for her mother's friend. "But you made up, didn't you?" she asked. "You have just not seen each other in a while, but you are still friends?"

"He left Paris years ago," Christine whispered. "To avoid me and the memories of the pain I have caused him, but yes, I think we are still friends. At least," she added, "whatever happens, whatever the future holds in store, he will always be dear to my heart, and those years when I only knew him as my angel are among my fondest memories."

"I hope he comes back one day," Amélie commented, "so that you can tell him that you are still his friend. And we will be his friends also." Isabelle nodded in agreement.

Christine smiled. She did not know yet if she would ever find the courage to put her marriage with Raoul behind and start a new life with Erik, but the fact that Amélie wanted to be friends with a disfigured person gave her hope that her children would be able to accept Erik in case… she did not want to think that far. Not yet.

Xxxxx

A few days later, Amélie helped Mme. Giry in the garden. That is, Amélie was convinced she was helping her auntie 'Toinette, while the latter felt that the child was in her way. She did not mind though, and enjoyed the girl's happy chatter.

"Do you know that maman's angel was really a man?" Amélie asked suddenly. "He has an ugly face and did not want her to see him, so he befriended her through the wall."

Mme. Giry smiled. "So I've heard," she said.

"It is stupid not to like a nice person just because he is ugly," Amélie continued. "And maman says she still likes him and it does not matter. But he is gone. He should come back. We would show him that we like him. We would be his friends."

Mme. Giry faced the girl. "He has suffered a lot. He was treated poorly most of his life. When he ever comes back, I hope you will remember what you just said."

Amélie nodded eagerly. "Maman said they fought once she knew about his face, but she still likes him."

Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, she likes him. A lot. And she regrets how she treated him all those years ago. But he knows all of that and he…" She paused. She had almost said that Erik still loved Christine and that hopefully these two would finally get together after the period of mourning.

"Maman likes him very much, doesn't she?" Amélie asked. "She looked so happy when she talked about him. She even laughed once. Maybe if he came back she would laugh more often and be happy again?"

"I certainly hope so," Mme. Giry commented.

"Then I will pray every night that he may come back soon. Maybe papa an grandfather will send him home then."

Mme. Giry was not so sure Raoul would listen to his daughter's prayers to reunite Christine with Erik, but she had faith in Gustave Daaé.

Xxxx

At lunch Amélie remembered something else from her mother's story. "Maman, you said you once sang at the opera," she asked. "Was that as fun as you had thought it would be? Did you like it?"

Christine beamed at the memory of her successes. "It was wonderful," she explained. "Imagine to stand on a stage in front of a huge audience and to be able to make them feel your character's emotions through music, to produce all theses heavenly sounds with your voice…" She smiled. Erik had made it possible for her to experience all this…

"Why did you stop then?" Amélie asked. "Didn't you like it anymore?"

"I got married," Christine replied. "And as the wife of a Vicomte…" She shook her head sadly. "It would not have been appropriate," she added feebly.

"Can you do it now?" Amélie asked. "Will you do it again?" She remembered how proud she had been of her auntie Meg when they had been to the ballet performance last winter and imagined that seeing her mother excel on stage would be even more fabulous.

"I… I don't know," Christine said uneasily. She had not thought about it yet, since the de Chagnys had more or less forbidden her to return to the stage before the end of the mourning period. She would probably be able to make more money that way than what she was entitled to as Raoul's widow, but she would have to do so as Christine Daaé and she was not sure she would want to face the gossip about Raoul de Chagny's widow, the former lover of the now deceased Opera Ghost, having to make a living as a performer again.

"Will you sing for us?" Amélie asked. "I have never heard you sing or seen you in an opera. I want to know what it was like when you were there on stage and sang…"

"That is a great idea," Mme. Giry chimed in. "You know that your old sheet music is all here, plus some newer stuff," she said, alluding to Erik's songbook and the handwritten copy of Christine's song from the bazaar. "Why don't you practice a bit this afternoon. I have to go and pick up Meg's new point shoes for her, since the shop will be closed once she gets off from rehearsals. I can take Amélie and Isabelle. You then have the house all to yourself and can prepare a song or two for us. I would particularly love to hear the one that supposedly was such a success at the bazaar…"

Christine blushed. Erik's song. No, her song, his parting gift to her. "I am not sure I can sing this particular song tonight," she muttered, "since my voice is out of practice, but I will see if I can find a song that is not too challenging." She was not sure if she would be able to sing any of Erik's songs ever again. Her husband, the father of her children, had only died a few weeks ago, how could she even consider singing a love song another man had written for her?

Mme. Giry sighed. "Of course I will enjoy any song you will sing to us," she said pointedly, "but I have never heard you sing that one and would love to hear it."

Christine promised to keep Mme. Giry's wish in mind, but she remained adamant that she had to start out with something a bit easier to sing. Once she was alone she went through her sheet music. She finally decided on Elyssa's aria. That song was not too difficult, but effective and she had studied it so thoroughly with Erik then, that it was forever ingrained into her memory and her vocal chords would probably run on automatic and produce the right sounds without problems.

After some warm-up exercises Christine sat down in front of the piano and began to sing. Suddenly she realized how closely her own current situation resembled that of the character Elyssa. A doomed love – would that be her and Erik's fate? Would it not mean to betray Raoul's memory if she followed her heart now? Or would it be the greater sin to reject Erik again? Christine felt more confused than ever.


	28. Letter

Thank you all for your lovely reviews. Yes, AAG means Antoinette, Amélie and Gertraud, who will be back soon. I should have known that you'd figure that out, after all, you are fellow POTO- and E/C-fans.

Anyway, I know, I promised an update for "So Lost, so Helpless", but this week was extremely busy and so far I've only had time for one chapter and thus decided to give you the usual Saturday-update on this story. "Lost" is definitely coming up next, though.

I still don't own anything or anybody, except for the aforemetioned two thirds of the AAG-conspiracy - or would that rather be half of AAGN?

Chapter 28 – Letter

When Mme. Giry and the children returned from their errand later, they found Christine in tears. They quickly ran to her side to comfort her. "I cannot sing," Christine sobbed. "It makes me too sad. I thought about preparing Elyssa's song for you, since it is not too difficult and I had studied it so well all those years ago, but….."

"That is a beautiful song," Mme. Giry agreed. "But I think you are wrong. You will be perfectly fine singing it. Just focus on your angel's teachings and try to imagine how Elyssa is feeling, knowing that she will soon lose her beloved forever." She patted Christine's shoulder to encourage her. "Your daughters have never heard you sing. You should not withhold your talent from them. And …. You know, he would want it too. He would not want you to neglect your talent any longer. Give it a try. For your children and your angel."

Christine nodded. What Mme. Giry had said, made sense. Her two girls deserved to hear her sing, to understand completely, who and what their mother had been before they were born, and it was also true that Erik would want her to practice regularly so that her voice would stay in shape. "I will try," she smiled, wiping away her tears. She sat down in front of the piano. "Raoul forgive me," she begged her dead husband silently. "I know you would not approve, but our children have a right to know their mother – every aspect of her, including her past."

Christine took a deep breath. "For you, Erik," she thought, "and for the children," then started playing the introduction. "Think of me," she sang, "think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye…" And suddenly she smiled. She did not have to ask that of her angel. She knew with absolute certainty that she was always in Erik's thoughts, that no matter how badly she had hurt him, he still loved her and would always do so.

"There will never be a day that I won't think of you," she promised jubilantly, her voice effortlessly hitting the high note. This was also true. Whether or not there was a future for her and Erik, her feelings for him remained unchanged and he would always be with her in her thoughts and dreams.

"Elyssa did not have a choice," she thought to herself. "She had to accept her fate. There was nothing she could do about it. But…" She did not dare finish that thought, did not quite allow herself to hope that one day, after having mourned Raoul properly, _she_ would have that choice…

Xxxx

Erik was in a strange mood, when he returned from Paris. The image of Christine at the funeral, pale, exhausted, emotionally drained, haunted him. She had looked so forlorn among all those proud, self-righteous members of the nobility, and Erik had understood that she had never truly been accepted by her husband's relatives and friends.

"I should never have let her go in the first place," he thought. "I should have fought for her harder. But I hoped that the Vicomte would be able to give her the life in the limelight that she so deserves, the kind of life that I had not thought I could ever offer her. And I would never have dared to hope that I could win her heart... It is my fault that she now has to suffer so much from the cold, unfeeling de Chagny-family. To think that she has to live another year in that love-less environment!"

Erik's heart went out to Christine and he vowed that he would make it all up to her, shower her with love, once that terrible year of mourning was over and he would finally be able to claim her as his wife. Her and the two little girls. Erik smiled at the memory of little Amélie in the shack in Antoinette's garden. What a darling she was! It would be strange having to become a father to her and her little sister. Erik had never considered the possibility of fatherhood before, and in a way he could not really see himself as a father, but when he thought back to his encounter with Christine's daughter, he had a feeling as if it could be a gratifying experience to have the children in his life. He could teach them and guide them just as he had done with Christine when she had still been a little girl. Of course this would be different. With Christine, he had kept his distance, and had thus never been able to have any physical contact with her. These two girls would be around, he would be able to hold or carry them, as he had already done with Amélie, maybe they would even allow him to hug and kiss them as other parents did with their children. Erik briefly wondered what it might be like to feel a child's soft arms around his neck, while the little one planted a rather wet kiss on his cheek. He imagined that it might be quite an enjoyable experience. If only….

Erik suddenly shuddered. What if these adorable little girls would be frightened of him? What if they sensed that there was something wrong with him? Of course he would never show them his unmasked face, no, that certainly would give a child nightmares, but as natural-looking as it was, his mask was still discernible at close inspection and his masked cheek certainly was of a different, unnatural texture. Sooner or later, the children would notice this. What would happen then? Would they shun him? Would their fear of him drive him and Christine apart yet again?

Erik was torn between his love for Christine, his desire to take her into his arms again and comfort her, making her forget all the suffering and the loneliness she would certainly feel during the next year, and his secret fear that those adorable little girls, that in his heart he had already adopted, would not be able to accept him.

Erik's state of mind was of course noticed by Nadir, who inwardly cursed himself for not having tried harder to dissuade Erik of going to Paris. He had had an uneasy feeling about Erik's travel plans. Even though Erik's new mask made him look almost normal at first glance, going back to Paris, where he had once been a wanted criminal, was certainly risky, especially if Erik was planning to get anywhere near the de Chagny-family, which he certainly had to do if he tried to see Christine.

Nadir had been worried the whole time of Erik's absence and had nervously awaited his friend's return. He had been relieved when Erik was still in one piece when he arrived at their home a few days ago, but the latter's constant brooding caused him new worries, especially since he shared Erik's concerns about the children's likely reaction to him. Would the girls' reaction keep Erik and Christine apart even now? Was it truly too late for them? Would their love forever be denied fulfillment? And, most importantly, how would Erik deal with such a situation, should he and Christine be unable to get married now? Christine would have her daughters, but Erik?

"Allah, please protect Erik. I do not think he could deal with such a major disappointment again," Nadir prayed to his God. "It would surely break him."

Xxxx

A few days had passed since Erik's return to Berlin, days full of tension on Erik's side and full of worry for Nadir, when a letter from Mme. Giry arrived. Erik immediately tore it open and began to read. After the first few lines he paled, then his anger rose.

"Those impertinent bastards!" he exclaimed, enraged. "How dare they? What gives them the right to treat those three angels like that!"

When Nadir gave him a questioning look, he calmed down somewhat and explained. "The de Chagnys threw Christine and the children out," he snarled. "With the absolute minimum pension they could get away with. My angels would be destitute and homeless if Antoinette hadn't taken them in! To that family Christine is nothing but a commoner, an intruder into their illustrious ranks, and her little angels are considered half-breeds without rights at best. Their own flesh and blood! And they chase them away!"

Erik was on his feet now, pacing up and down. He was furious. Had any member of the de Chagny-family been anywhere near, he would have most definitely strangled them – and enjoyed the killing immensely.

Nadir grinned. Just like Mme. Giry he understood that this new development could work in Erik's favor. "Sit down, Erik," he said softly, "and calm down. True, the way these French aristocrats are treating your Christine and her children is atrocious. Even if they are technically within their rights, which they probably are, they should show some mercy towards a widow and two little orphans. But, Erik, think about it. That they do not care whether or not the former Vicomtesse and her children fall into poverty, most likely also means that they won't object to her remarrying or moving here. She is truly free of them now. And as to the girls…. Erik, while your mask may still make them a bit apprehensive, the fact that you can offer them the kind of life again that they are used to, might also help."

Erik swallowed hard. Nadir was of course right, but to think of Christine and her girls – hopefully his girls, too, one day – in need, having to think twice about every purchase they wanted to make, caused him almost physical pain. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Paris immediately, pack up his three angels and take them with him at once.

"You can't do that." Nadir's words interrupted Erik's thoughts. "Don't give me that surprised look," the older man continued, chuckling. "I know exactly what you are thinking. But you really cannot do this. It would completely ruin Christine's reputation and thus prove her relatives right if you made her run off with you now. Also, Erik, keep in mind that her husband just died. He may not have been the love of her life, but he is the father of her children and they have known each other for a long time. She certainly cared for him. His sudden, unexpected death must have been a shock to her and the girls. They need time to come to terms with their loss. Don't rush things, give them time. This may be hard on you right now, but ultimately they will thank you for your understanding."

Erik sighed. "I know all that," he admitted. "But you cannot expect me to remain here and do nothing while Christine and the little angels have problems making ends meet!"

Nadir smiled. "Who said you should do nothing?" he asked. "If I were you, I would send some money to the good Mme. Giry for their combined household, so that she does not have to charge Christine too much for board and lodging and maybe can buy the occasional little extra for your lady and the children. To Christine you could not make such an offer, but Mme. Giry is like a sister to you…"

Erik beamed. "That is an excellent idea," he told Nadir. "I will immediately make arrangements with my bank to send Antoinette a monthly rent. How much do you think I should send her?"

"Not too much," Nadir advised. "Just enough to keep them comfortable without arousing suspicion. You know what people would think if an all-women household suddenly became rich almost overnight."

Erik would of course have wanted to surround Christine and the children with luxury, but he understood that for the time being this would not be possible.

"She has no use for extravagant clothes or jewelry right now anyway," Nadir reminded him. "As a mourning widow she can't attend any festivities. And once she will be able to do so again, …." His voice trailed. If Allah had mercy with Erik, there would be a wedding this time next year.

"Is that all the news you got?" Nadir changed the topic, glancing at several more sheets of paper filled with Mme. Giry's neat handwriting that Erik had dropped to the floor, unread, in his anger at the de Chagny's treatment of the late Vicomte's family.

Erik picked up his letter. He had been so furious that he had almost forgotten that he had not finished reading it yet. He sat down again and continued to read. The further he got, the deeper he was moved by what Antoinette told him. She explained how she had used his encounter with Amélie to trick Christine into telling the children of him – her angel, who was not an angel at all, but a disfigured man. A friend that meant a lot to her.

Erik's tears began to flow freely once he read about the girls' reaction to that story. "We can be his friends, too, she said" he whispered. "Amélie wants to be friends with a disfigured, ugly freak like me." Was he dreaming? Was he not imagining things, was Antoinette really telling him that this adorable girl that he loved already, the child that reminded him so much of her mother, that he had carried in his arms, that she was eager to meet him and to be his friend?

Nadir was at Erik's side in a moment. What was it in this letter that made his friend cry again? Surely there could not be any more bad news? "What is the matter, Erik," he asked concerned. "Why are you crying?"

Erik handed him the letter, unable to speak. What was it that Antoinette had written? The little angel would pray to her dead father and grandfather and ask them to bring her mother's friend, the angel turned man, back, so that her mother would laugh and smile again? "If you ever loved them, Vicomte," he murmured with gritted teeth, "then you'd better listen to your daughter and help me make them my family now, so that I can shower them with love and provide for them."

He beckoned to Nadir that he wanted his letter back. He had to reread those last few paragraphs to make sure he had not been dreaming.

"Amélie really liked you, Erik," Antoinette had written. "She is not sure whether it was a dream or reality, but you made a deep impression on her. Once she realizes that it was no dream and that you are her mother's angel, chances are that she will embrace you. Isabelle is too young and does not really understand the whole situation, but she tends to agree with her sister. She may favor her father's side of the family in terms of looks, but on the inside both girls are true Daaés and Christine is a great mother and has taught them well. I am confident that all will go well and that in a year's time you will be able to take them all home with you."

"Did you read this?" Erik whispered. "Nadir, did you read where Antoinette says the girls want me to come back to their mother? And that they want to be my friends?"

Nadir nodded. It was clear from Mme. Giry's letter that the children knew about their mother's so-called angel, who had taught her to sing and was very dear to her heart despite his disfigurement. In his opinion that did bode well for Erik's chances of being accepted by them, though he was unsure how such young children would react, should they ever see Erik's face uncovered. "It seems you might be able to win them over after all," he said cautiously.

Erik beamed. "Imagine, Nadir, a family!" he exclaimed excitedly. "If everything goes well, in about a year I will have a family, like any other, normal man!"

Then a thought struck him. "We will stay together," he informed Nadir. "I won't abandon you. You were there for me, when I needed a friend, you have always treated me like a son or brother, you are therefore part of my family. You and Antoinette….," he continued. "Before I ever met Christine, the two of you were all the family I ever had. I will ask her to come with us as well. Her and her daughter. I would not want them to be separated from Christine and the children again."

Erik got excited at the idea of having all his loved ones around him. "We will need a large house," he announced, "with plenty of room for all of us, including Darius and probably another servant or two. And a garden for the children to play in. The neighborhood where they lived last year is still in development and it seems like the ideal place for a family residence. Nadir, make inquiries. I will have to buy some land there, and I will immediately start working on the plans for our house. If I want it to be ready for us to move in next year, we have to hurry."

Nadir chuckled. "Shouldn't you wait till you have talked to Christine?" he asked jokingly.

Erik hesitated for a moment. "You fear she might turn me down?" he asked uncertainly.

Nadir shook his head. "Not really," he admitted. "I am fairly certain that she loves you. You should have heard her sing at the bazaar. If she refuses at first it might be out of consideration for her daughters' paternal relatives or some such nonsense, in which case you should be easily able to make her see the wrongness of her ways. The fact that you have fallen hopelessly in love with her children – don't deny it, Erik, I can see how your eyes sparkle when you talk about them – will also speak in your favor, and don't forget, that as your wife she will also be able to sing again."

Erik's face lit up. "We could perform together," he whispered. "I could accompany her on the piano. She could sing my songs in public…"

It was strange. Only a few hours ago, he had felt hopeless and he had feared the long year ahead, now all of a sudden, his future seemed bright and one year almost too short to prepare everything for the reunion of his family.


	29. Wait

Oh well, I am a bit later than I thought, but better late than never. We are getting there, slowly, but steadily. The next chapter will contain cuteness and phluff galore, I promise. This one is more of a transition, but it features the return of Gertraud and her godmother.

I still don't own anything or anybody, just to make sure you know that. And if you enjoy this story, you might also want to check out my new one, "So Lost, So Helpless", the first two chapters of which are already up.

And last, but not least, thanks go to all my readers, and especially my reviewers and all those who put my stories on alert or favorite them. I love you all, your support means the world to me!

Chapter 29 – Wait

Erik sat down at his desk. "I will answer Antoinette's letter immediately," he announced. "I need to tell her to expect some financial support from me within the next few days, and that she and Meg should prepare themselves to move here with Christine and the children." He hesitated for a moment. "Do you think,…." he stammered, "I mean, would it be appropriate to write to Christine as well? Just a few lines… to tell her that I know about her husband's demise and am patiently waiting for the mourning period to end?"

Nadir thought about it for a moment. "It might be better to ask Mme. Giry to convey a message," he finally advised. "She can then pick the best moment to tell your Christine, choose a day when the young widow might be most receptive to your pleas."

Erik sighed. This was not exactly what he had hoped to hear, but he had to admit that Nadir did have a point. He understood that after all Christine had been through recently, she might need some time to get to terms with the Vicomte's death, her new financial situation, her daughters' pain at having lost their father and the de Chagnys' cruel attitude towards her and her children. Asking her to commit herself to him so soon might put her under even more stress. "I will wait," he finally promised, "till Antoinette tells me that Christine is over the worst. Until then, I will have to rely on Antoinette, ask her to mention me on occasion and remind Christine that I am waiting for her."

He suddenly remembered something. "Madame von Reifenstein," he muttered. "She is Christine's friend, she knows about our love and has shown us her support before. Maybe I can ask her for help as well. Surely, Christine will write to her regularly…"

Erik strode purposefully towards the hall. "Where are you going?" Nadir asked.

Erik smiled. "I need to talk to Johann and Dora," he explained. "I have to ask a favor of them."

Xxxx

Johann and Dora Lüders were a bit surprised when their butler announced that Monsieur Dumesnil wanted to talk to them. They were not expecting anybody and it was already a bit late for social calls. But they were delighted to see their friend.

"Erik," Johann jovially greeted his most lucrative client and good friend. "It's good to see you. What brings you here at such an unusual hour? Are those violin sonatas that you promised me finally ready for publication?"

Erik shook his head. "Not yet," he admitted sheepishly. He had completely forgotten about those. "I am here to ask you to do me a favor. Or rather you, Dora," he turned to his friend's wife. "I need to speak to your goddaughter, Madame von Reifenstein. Would it be possible to invite us both to tea one of the next days, just the two of us, nobody else?"

Dora Lüders groaned. What had she gotten herself into by allowing Gertraud to contact the composer through her?

Erik saw her hesitation, and knew that she had every right in the world to have misgivings about this continued secrecy between him and her goddaughter. He decided that it was time to let his two friends in on part of the story. If, as he hoped, Christine would return to Berlin next year as his wife, they would learn the truth anyway. It could not hurt to prepare them a bit for this development.

"This is about her friend," he admitted, "Madame de Chagny. Her husband died unexpectedly a short while ago. And…" Erik looked down. He knew it was wrong to think of the future so soon after the Vicomte's death, but…. "Of course she is in mourning," he stammered nervously, "and it is too soon. I cannot write to her yet, but…." His voice trailed and the left side of his face turned a deep shade of pink.

With a woman's sixth sense, Dora guessed the rest. "You want to propose to Madame de Chagny, once the period of mourning is over? I know she and Gertraud were your voice students once, but you barely know her, does she even know about…" She looked pointedly at Erik's almost indiscernible mask.

Erik shook his head. "On the contrary," he explained. "I know her fairly well. In fact, I have known Christine since she was seven years old. And she is not only aware of the fact that I am wearing a mask, she has seen me without it, repeatedly." He paused, before adding what both his friends had already begun to suspect. "She is the one. The nameless woman to whom my songs are dedicated. She who holds my heart. And… I have reason to hope …"

"Oh Erik, how wonderful!" Dora Lüders beamed and her husband squeezed Erik's shoulder in delight. "But where does our Gertraud come in?" the couple asked.

Erik looked down. "I cannot write to Christine yet. It is too soon. It would not be appropriate, and she is not ready yet. She needs to properly mourn her late husband, get over the feeling of betraying him by thinking of a new relationship. I know she does love me, but because of the circumstances she might be a bit reluctant to give in to her feelings." And he told them in a few words the same story Christine had presented to Gertraud.

"Of course my… sister is keeping me informed on Christine's emotional status," he ended, "but she is like a mother to her. With her friend Christine may be a bit more open. I therefore hope that Madame von Reifenstein might be better able to dispel Christine's doubts and help me convince her that she does not have to feel guilt for following her heart now and accepting my proposal."

Dora grinned. She understood now. "The song at the bazaar," she murmured. "That's why the Vicomtesse gave such a soulful rendition of your composition – and why we could not auction off the original manuscript."

Erik nodded. "I wanted Christine to keep the copy in my handwriting. And… I did not want something in my handwriting publicly displayed at the charity event. You see, the Vicomte had no idea that I am now living in Berlin, but he would have known immediately, the moment he recognized my scribbles. He is…. was very jealous, and if he had learned about my presence here, he might have made a scene. I swear to you both that nothing untoward happened between me and Christine last year, but I doubt he would have believed her…"

"Don't worry," Johann Lüders reassured Erik. "We know you. And the young Vicomtesse was very well liked in society. Nobody will doubt that you both behaved appropriately and honored her marriage."

Dora smiled at Erik. "I'll arrange a meeting with you and Gertraud. I know she is close friends with your Christine and she is down to earth and hopefully able to talk sense into that woman. Which day would work for you? Thursday? That's when you used to do the singing lessons, right? And Gertraud's husband works late, so she is bored at home. So, unless you hear from me otherwise, come for tea next Thursday!"

Xxx

Gertraud von Reifenstein stared at the letter she had received from her friend Christine de Chagny. The former Vicomtesse seemed to be under incredible emotional stress. The ink was smeared with tears in places and the whole letter sounded depressed and hopeless. Christine wrote about her husband's funeral, about the way she and her daughters had been treated by the de Chagny family, and once again about the fact that she felt indirectly responsible for her husband's death because she had secretly wanted to get out of this marriage.

"She should be glad she is free now," Gertraud thought. "I bet that man knew pretty well that she loved Dumesnil, long before she realized it herself, and somehow manipulated her into marrying him. Despite the age difference Dumesnil is a much better fit for her, what with their shared interest in music and all that. If she does not marry the love of her life now, …"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the butler handing her an elegant envelope. "This was just delivered by the servant of Mister Lüders," he announced. "Supposedly it is an invitation."

Gertraud took the envelope and thanked her butler, dismissing him. She curiously opened the letter. She was not aware of any events that the Lüders' might be planning for the near future and therefore did not expect an invitation. Once she had read the short message, she gasped.

"Come and have tea with us next Thursday," her godmother had written. A good friend of ours is concerned about his – hopefully – bride-to-be and wants to enlist your help."

Gertraud grinned. "Dumesnil has doubts too, that she will be easily convinced to accept his proposal, out of a misplaced feeling of guilt," she thought. "But we won't allow her to do that. We won't rest until we've forced her to accept her good fortune and turned her into a happily married woman."

Xxx

The following Thursday, Gertraud and Erik met at the Lüders' place for tea. Neither of them was particularly hungry or thirsty. Dora Lüders finally took the initiative. "I know that you are both worried about Madame de Chagny," she began. "I guess you want to compare notes? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Erik shook his head. "No, Dora, you already know about as much as Madame von Reifenstein about my previous relationship with Christine. We do not plan on discussing any secrets, and maybe a fresh perspective will help."

Gertraud wholeheartedly agreed with him. She was glad that she finally could share the whole problem with her godmother.

Erik then told the two ladies about his recent trip to Paris and about the letter he had received from Mme. Giry. "Of course, Christine is under stress right now," he admitted. "The sudden, unexpected death of her husband must have been a shock, and I can understand that a sensitive person like her would feel guilt, considering that she had wanted out of that marriage. She may also think that she has somehow failed him while he was alive and therefore owes him fidelity beyond the grave..."

"That's utter nonsense!" Gertraud exclaimed. "Yes, you are right, she does seem to feel that way, she has alluded to such concerns in her letter to me as well. But in my opinion she owes him nothing. She stayed with him, even when she realized what a terrible mistake she had made in marrying him, and she kept up the illusion of a perfect marriage for his sake." She looked apologetically at Erik, whose eyes took on a haunted look at the thought of Christine being happily married to that... boy.

"It was only an illusion, Monsieur," Gertraud tried to make him relax again. "She was not happy with him. Not truly. She did care for him in a way, she loved him like a brother or cousin, but he never was her soul-mate. He never understood her, or he would never have forbidden her to sing. And..," she hesitated for a moment, then added resolutely, "I think he knew. He must have known that it was you she loved, long before she herself realized it. I am fairly certain that he somehow tricked her into marrying him, maligned you in some way, or something. That's why he forbade her to sing. He feared music might remind her of you and make her realize who she truly loved.."

Erik stared at her. Whatever his opinion of that boy, he had never considered the possibility that the Vicomte might have been the only one of the three of them to truly understand Christine's heart all those years ago, at the Opéra Populaire. "You think," he rasped, "he deliberately kept us apart, knowing that in doing so he might greatly hurt Christine?"

Gertraud nodded. "I think he acted very selfishly, but of course I have no proof."

Erik sighed. "He might even have done so, thinking that he was saving her from a fate worse than death, from life with a monster," he thought. Even with proof it might be difficult to convince Christine of the fact that her late husband had not acted in her best interest by binding her to him.

"That suspicion of yours won't help us," he finally explained to Gertraud. "Especially without proof. She might not believe us even if we could prove our theory."

"We need to find out first, if there is any other problem that might prevent her from accepting your proposal next year," Dora reminded them. "Maybe she is so reluctant, because she fears losing her children if she remarries?"

Erik shook his head. "Her husband's family has very little interest in the girls. It would be different if she had a son. Then he would be the heir and the family would try to supervise his education and influence him. They certainly would object to Christine taking him here with her. But the two little girls, no, I don't think they care one way or another. I bet they'd be glad to be rid of the obligation towards these poor relatives if I adopted them."

Dora nodded. "That's what I thought," she agreed with Erik. "What else might make her reluctant to follow her heart now? Do you think she fears her children might not accept you?" She did not mention the mask, but Erik understood her nevertheless. "That they might not want a replacement for their beloved father?" She added as an explanation for Gertraud's benefit.

"I don't think so," Erik replied. "I was a bit concerned about that point as well, but, ..." He shook his head. "No. Antoinette – my … foster sister – says that Christine has already told the children about me and they want to meet me. In fact, I have already met one of them..." and he told the surprised ladies how he had found little Amélie sobbing in the shack.

"Then that's not a problem either," Dora commented. "That leaves the possibility that she might face some financial loss by remarrying, but from what the two of you have told me, that family grants her such a small widow's pension that she would actually be better off if she married you, Erik. So I guess you are right, and the only problem you might have to face would be her exaggerated conception of loyalty towards her deceased husband. Of course it is possible that we are worrying about nothing. It has only been a few weeks since her husband died. The pain and the loss are still fresh. Her perspective may change after a while. We will just have to wait and see. I am sure that your sister will do her best to influence her charge in your favor and Gertraud will remind her every now and then that she has it in her hands to make you the happiest man alive."

Gertraud blushed. "I know that many people think I am a scatterbrain," she admitted, "but I can be quite tactful, when necessary. This certainly is such a case. I will do my best to make Christine realize where her future lies." She grinned. "I want her to come back to Berlin," she added. "Therefore I'd better be extra careful."

The conspirators then discussed the best way of action. They would meet regularly at the Lüders-home to share information and decide how to react to whatever news Erik would get from Antoinette or Gertraud would receive from Christine directly. Gertraud and Antoinette would correspond as well, but through Erik, to avoid that Christine might find out about their conspiracy.

Xxxx

A few days later, Mme. Giry received a long letter from Erik, informing her to expect financial support from him for her three boarding guests, that he was working on plans for a house large enough to hold them all, and that he was putting her in touch with Madame von Reifenstein, so that the two of them could also plot to help Christine make the right decision.

The first monthly rent arrived within the week, and Mme. Giry was delighted that she could now spoil Christine and the girls a bit more. A piece of chocolate, some ice-cream, a new ribbon for Amélie's unruly curls, a new dress for Isabelle's favorite doll, all of these things were now affordable.

As soon as she caught Meg alone, Mme. Giry informed her daughter of Erik's offer to come to Berlin and live with him and Christine once they would be married. Meg liked the idea. She was particularly happy to hear that the ballet at the opera in Berlin had very high standards and was always looking for new talent. With Erik's connections to the music and theater scene there it would be easy for her to get an audition. "And we will be able to stay together. We won't have to lose Christine and the girls again!"

Mme. Giry therefore wrote back to Erik, thanking him for his generous financial support and informing him that she and Meg were looking forward to moving to Berlin with Christine and the children.

Xxx

In the meantime, Erik had bought a huge lot of land in the prestigious Wannsee district and was busily working on designing the new home for his extended family. Since he had used Nadir, who was unfamiliar to members of the Berlin society, as his agent for all transactions regarding the purchase of the land and the actual building of the villa, the owner of the magnificent villa remained a mystery for the time being. The construction of the house was finished by the time the first fall rains hit the city, and once the snow began to melt it was fully furbished and waiting for its new inhabitants. Everything was ready for the future lady of the house and her lovely daughters to take possession of their new home.


	30. Encounters

Thank you all for your patience. But your reward is near, we are facing the long awaited reunion! But... cuteness first, then phluff. I also am a bit uncertain about the next update. Easter is a busy time for my choir. Lot's of reviews might motivate me, though, to try and get an update out next weekend.

As always, thanks go out to all my readers, old and new, and especially to those of you, who put my stories on alert, add them to their favorites or review them. I always get excited when an email arrives telling me about such actions taken by you guys. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I could not do this without you!

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody. But then... what else is new?

Chapter 30 – Encounters

The year of mourning passed quickly – almost too quickly for Christine. The first anniversary of Raul's death was only a few weeks away, and she still had not reached a decision what to do. She wanted nothing more than to run into her angel's open arms and finally find fulfillment for her love, but could she do so?

Christine knew from subtle hints from Mme. Giry as well as Gertraud that Erik was waiting for her and expecting her to accept his proposal once the mourning period was over. Neither of her two friends was pressuring her, they were both discreet and tactful, but they both seemed convinced that Christine should follow her heart now.

Christine sighed. How could she marry Erik now? Would it bring her luck to build a new life on her first husband's grave? She knew that Raoul would be appalled at the thought of Erik becoming his successor and the stepfather of his daughters. Realizing her love for Erik while being married to Raul had been bad enough. Would it not be betrayal of the worst sort to give in to her feelings now and seek refuge in Erik's arms? Would such feelings of guilt not poison her new marriage? Could she truly be happy knowing that her first husband would not approve of the man she would be allowing to help raise their daughters? Could Erik truly be happy if he constantly was confronted with the guilt and the doubt at the bottom of her soul?

Mme. Giry knew that Christine was still torn between her love for Erik and her perceived obligations towards Raoul and that she therefore could not be expected to take any steps to meet with Erik and give him the opportunity to propose to her. "I promised Erik I would help him, if Christine does not call for him once the time is right," she thought, "and I will keep that promise." In her next letter she therefore asked Erik to come to Paris the week after the anniversary of the Vicomte's death. "I'll meet you on Monday morning at around ten in the little park adjacent to the market place near my house," she wrote. "Then we'll discuss how and when you can meet Christine." And inwardly she prayed that seeing Erik unexpectedly would help Christine realize how much she missed him and needed him.

Xxxx

The week before Easter Christine received an unexpected visit. She beamed as she recognized the friendly lady at the door. "Colette!" Christine was so pleased to see the loyal servant that she hugged the housekeeper of the de Chagny estate in Brittany. "How sweet of you to stop by!"

Embarrassed, Colette murmured something about being just a humble servant and undeserving of such affection, but Christine easily dispersed her concerns. "I am not your mistress anymore," she reminded Colette, "I am a poor widow, and would not be able to afford an apartment for me and my children if my friends had not taken us in."

Colette sighed. She knew that Christine was right. "The master would be spinning in his grave," she stated, "if he knew how his family is treating you, Madame, and our two princesses. The new master and his wife think poorly of you, because you are not of noble birth, but you are a true lady." She blushed. It was not appropriate to talk about them like that behind their back.

"It is the way they were raised," Christine tried to defend her late husband's relatives. "It is not their fault."

Colette nodded, unconvinced, then pulled an old, worn book out of her bag. "They told me to burn this," she explained to Christine, "but I did not think it would be right. You should have it. You and the princesses. You will appreciate and cherish it. I would have come sooner, but I could not get a few days off last summer, we were too busy with renovating and redecorating the house." Colette shuddered. "You would not recognize it anymore," she sighed.

Colette shook off the somber thoughts. "Anyway, I could not get away last summer and during winter the roads were in poor condition and it would have been difficult to reach the nearest train station, so I come now."

Christine assured her that she understood perfectly and was glad that she had come at last. She looked at the book with its well worn leather cover. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

"It is the diary that the master used to keep when he was a boy," Colette explained. "He started it shortly before you and your father came to the area… I have not read it," she added quickly, "but Jean, the old farmhand, remembered seeing the young master scribbling into it, hidden away in the stables…"

Christine smiled. That was indeed a precious gift, her childhood romance seen through the eyes of Raoul. She was looking forward to reading it and to reliving that happy time. She thanked Colette, then asked her about the other employees at the estate. She was glad to learn that Etienne's leg had healed and the boy had made a complete recovery.

The two ladies chatted for a while, then Colette asked, if she could see the girls. Christine lead her to the garden, where her daughters were busy, playing with the sheep. Colette smiled. She loved the children. How much they had grown, since she had last seen them! It pained her, though, that they were wearing dresses made of durable cotton. Pretty, yes, but really simple compared to the girls' former wardrobe. She shuddered at the thought of how her late master would feel about the current situation of his family.

Xxxxx

Once Colette had left, Christine wanted to start reading Raoul's diary immediately, but some household chores came up and she had to postpone checking out the book. The following days were busy as well, what with the Easter holidays and preparing a few small surprises for her children. The anniversary of Raoul's death came and went, and she still had not had time to read his diary.

The following Monday morning, Mme. Giry picked up her shopping basket and announced that she was going to the market. Erik had answered her letter confirming the suggested appointment, and she was going to meet him. When Amélie and Isabelle heard that auntie 'Toinette was headed towards the market, they begged to be allowed to come with her. They loved the market. There were so many things to see, and maybe, if they asked really nicely, auntie would buy them a special treat.

Mme. Giry was a bit reluctant at first to take the girls with her. She needed some privacy for her conversation with Erik, but then she thought that this might be a great chance to see how the children would react to him. After all, their feelings had to be taken into consideration as well. She had made sure that they never forgot the story about their mother's disfigured angel-friend, and they used to say they wanted to be his friends as well, but would they be able to relate to him, to actually like him?

"Fine, you can come with me," she finally decided. "I suppose, you won't object to a bit of peace and quiet," she smiled at Christine, "though we probably won't be long."

Christine nodded. This short respite would finally give her a chance to read Raoul's diary. "Go ahead," she told her daughters, "have fun at the market!" And to Mme. Giry she said, "don't let them talk you into buying them anything, you already spoil them enough!"

Xxxx

When Mme. Giry and the two girls passed through the park on their way to the market, she immediately noticed the tall, slender, elegantly dressed man, sitting on a bench in the shadow of a huge tree. She was incredibly proud of Erik. How far he had come since those days at the Opéra Populaire! The former Opera Ghost had turned into a well respected composer and musician.

She saw Erik's eyes burning with tenderness and longing when he spotted the children, but he seemed uncertain, hesitant if he could approach her, since she was not alone. She walked up to him, the girls in tow, and smiled. "Hello Erik," she greeted him, "it's good to see you!"

Erik once again glanced nervously at the adorable little ones that reminded him so much of Christine. Now was the decisive moment. Would he be able to win their trust?

"Antoinette," he said huskily, "I did not expect … I thought you would come alone."

Amélie gasped. That voice! That beautiful, melodious voice, that had soothed her and comforted her when she had been so sad after her father's death. "It was no dream," she whispered. "I knew! It was real. You talked to me in the garden last year and sang to me…"

Erik fidgeted. Was it a good sign that the child – Amélie – remembered their meeting? "Yes," he finally stammered, slightly discomfited by the radiant smile she gave him. "That was me. I heard you cry and went to see what the problem was…"

Amélie's smile broadened. "Auntie 'Toinette did not believe me," she told Erik, talking to him as if they were old friends. "She said I must have had a dream. And that maybe my dear papa had sent me that dream to comfort me, just like grandfather sent the Angel of…"

Her eyes suddenly widened and her little mouth dropped open, as realization hit her. "You know auntie 'Toinette, and that song, my maman had heard it before," she whispered. "The Angel, you are maman's friend, are you not?"

Erik hunched down next to the little girl. She was adorable in her enthusiasm and he would have picked her up into his arms, had he been sure that she would not be scared by such an impulsive display of affection. "Yes, I am the person who passed himself off as an angel," he said softly, his voice wavering with emotion, when he suddenly felt two tiny arms around his neck and Amélie's head buried against his chest. Erik gingerly wrapped his arms around the child.

"Oh, thank God, thank God," the little girl whispered. "You have come back. You are not mad at maman, you know that she is your friend, as are we. Maman will finally laugh again. We like you, it does not matter to us that…." She looked up at Erik, puzzled. "But it is not true, what maman told us. You are not ugly at all."

Erik decided to be honest. "What your mother told you is true," he said slowly. "Half of my face is quite ugly. That's why I cover it with a mask of very thin leather. It is not easily spotted if you don't look for it. It allows me to go out without causing people fear and disgust. See?" He pointed to the barely visible seam of his mask.

Amélie nodded. Now that he had pointed it out, she noticed the fine line across his face, which looked very much like a wrinkle. "That is good," Amélie said, nodding eagerly. "That way, strangers that don't know you, won't be shocked. Not everybody is your friend like maman and us." She snuggled up to him again. Erik felt tears running down his cheeks. The little girl's trusting adoration moved him deeply.

"Will you come with us, Angel?" Amélie asked.

Erik almost automatically corrected her, "my name is Erik." He was an emotional mess and felt like it would take him days to get used to the fact that this child, Christine's daughter and spitting image, had hugged him out of her own free will."

"Erik-Angel," Amélie beamed. "Will you come home with us and meet maman? She will be so happy to see you. She is still your friend, you know."

Erik nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak.

Mme. Giry was very pleased with the way this encounter had gone. Isabelle had not said a word yet, but her eyes shone brightly and it was obvious that the shyer younger girl was just as excited to finally meet her mother's friend as her older sister was. "Go ahead," she whispered to Isabelle. "Erik is dying for you to hug him as well."

Isabelle hesitated for another second, then grabbed Erik's arm. "I am your friend also," she declared, as Erik put his arms around both children, pulling them in a tight embrace.

"My little angels," he whispered under tears.

Mme. Giry had a hard time remaining calm at the touching scene in front of her. She knew how much the children's affection meant to her foster brother. She finally composed herself, pulled her keys out of her purse and handed them to Erik. "You go ahead," she told him. "Christine is alone, Meg has an early morning costume fitting for her new show. I need to do some shopping now, so nobody will disturb you. Talk to her, and…. may God guide her heart."

Erik nodded. He took the keys, smiling at the children. Now that he would finally see Christine again, he suddenly felt nervous. From what he had heard from both, Antoinette and Gertraud, Christine was still undecided. How would their meeting go? Would his love be strong enough to dispel her doubts?

The children did not want to leave him either, but could at last be convinced to go to the market with Antoinette, after Erik promised he would still be at their place, once they would come home. "I hope you will stay for lunch, Erik," Mme. Giry added meaningfully, praying that she would find a happy couple upon her return from the market.

Xxxx

As soon as Mme. Giry and her daughters had left, Christine pulled out Raoul's old diary. She had never known that he had had one, and she was thinking how odd it was to learn something new about one's husband a year after his death. She opened it and stared at the awkward letters, the stiff handwriting of the boy Raoul had once been.

Christine read the date of the first entry. It was several weeks before their first meeting. She would read that eventually, but now she was more interested in learning Raoul's thoughts about the girl, whose scarf he had fished out of the sea for her, and her famous violinist father.

Christine turned a handful of pages at once, trying to find the entry on this particular date, when she gasped. She must have accidentally grabbed more pages than she had planned, for the entry she was looking at right now, was obviously from a much later period. The ink was nowhere near as faded as on the front page and the letters now looked the way she remembered her husband's handwriting.

Christine was puzzled. Had Raoul taken up his diary again later in life? Why and when exactly? And why had he never told her about it? She stared at the page with unseeing eyes, when something suddenly caught her attention. Her gaze focused on a word, the word "monster".

"I finally succeeded in turning Christine away from that monster," Raoul had written. "What a lucky coincidence that he killed Buquet, or she would never have given me the time of day. It was so obvious that she was mad at him, that the only reason she paid attention to my words was, because she was deeply hurt and felt betrayed by his actions. I could not allow her to come to her senses and realize what had been going on. Buquet, that slimy bastard, had been stalking the monster for weeks. I had overheard him several times boast about how close he was to flashing out the ghost. It was clear to anybody with half a brain-cell that he must have attacked Christine's so-called angel and that the latter had acted in self-defense. Anybody, that is, but a romantic, besotted, infatuated girl. But I could not allow her to realize that. She adored him, worshipped him. How could such exquisite beauty as her fall for such an ugly beast? If he had not killed Buquet, she would never have been mine, but it is easy now to convince her that he is a dangerous killer that has deceived her. She will now bury her love for him and hopefully forget about it one day. She will be ashamed of her feelings for him and force her heart to turn to me. What I did, may not have been fair but in love and war…"

Christine stared at the page. This could not be true – or could it? Could Raoul have known about her feelings for Erik, even then? Could he have used Buquet's death to turn her away from her angel? She began browsing through the last few entries in the book. The first one was from the night of her debut. "She treated me like a brother," she read, "but when she talked of her "angel" her eyes sparkled. She quite obviously is in love with him and was expecting him. Why else would she have declined my invitation? He must be a musician, probably her voice coach. It should not be too hard to make her forget him, I can offer her so much more…"

Christine's head spun. Raoul had known the whole time! He had known that she loved Erik and had done his best to keep them apart. Hastily she turned a few more pages. "Why did I not kill him when I had the chance?" she read. "He was at my mercy, out there in the snow-covered cemetery. But I cannot kill him myself. She still loves him, she would not forgive me. I have to find a way to have him killed by others…"

A few pages later, she found the last entry. "Thank Goodness, that thing is dead. And yet… he holds her heart even from beyond the grave. When she sings, there is something in her eyes. I will have to forbid her to sing, to ban her from music…"

Christine broke down sobbing. There was no doubt anymore that Raoul had known that she loved Erik, but had used every trick in the world to separate them. Even though she had to admit that Erik's actions at that time had made it easy to malign him, and it was doubtful that she would have kept her faith in him even without Raoul's interference, she felt as if she and Erik had been cheated.

"We could have been together long ago," she cried. "We could have been happy. My poor angel! And I have not even written him one single word, not given him the tiniest bit of hope…how can he ever forgive me?"

She suddenly felt a presence in the room with her. She turned around and almost fainted, for there, in the doorway, stood the one she had been thinking of. "Erik," she whispered, "Angel!"

She stumbled towards him and would have fallen, had two strong arms not caught her. "Sh, my love," Erik's melodious voice cooed. "I am here now, I will protect you now. Nobody will hurt you ever again."


	31. Together

Awww! so many reviews! Apparently you liked the "Erik meets children"-scene! Since I said, lots of reviews might motivate me to squeeze an update in, here it is. Our family is about to come together...

As always, many thanks to all my reviewers, old and new, to all my readers and to everybody who puts the story on alert or adds it to their favorites. I love you all! Your support is invaluable and keeps me going.

I also wish all of you that do celebrate it a Happy Easter!

And last, but not least, I still don't own anything or anybody, and I have a feeling as if the Easter bunny won't have any rights to POTO wrapped up for me and hidden among the Easter eggs. I guess I'll have to live with that...

Chapter 30 – Together

Erik swept Christine up in his arms and carried her to a huge armchair, where he sat down, with her on his lap. Christine wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him like to a lifeline, and buried her face in his chest.

"You came," she sobbed. "I treated you so poorly, and yet, you came."

Erik rested his unmasked cheek on top of her unruly chocolate-brown curls. "I love you," he sighed, making it sound like an explanation.

Christine's sobbing grew louder. "I know that," she whimpered, "I knew that you were waiting for a word from me. A word that never came. I was aware of how my silence would pain you, and yet..." She snuggled closer to Erik, overcome with the need to touch him, to feel his presence, to make sure this was no dream and he was really there, in the same room, holding her, making her feel safe like when she had been a small, orphaned child. "I failed you," she confessed. "I let myself be guided by my own guilt, I put my perceived duties towards my dead husband above your needs, above our chance for a future. How can you ever forgive me, my love?"

Erik sat up straight and with his right hand he lifted Christine's face up from his chest, so that he could look her in the eyes. "The same way you forgave me for my crimes all those years ago at the Opéra," he explained, smiling at her. "Our love is strong enough. It will triumph over everything."

Christine nodded. "Still," she said. "I was wrong not to reach out to you. I wanted to so badly, especially when the de Chagnys threw us out, but whenever I was about to do so, I thought of Raoul, and how much it would hurt him if we got together at last, and I couldn't." She shook her head in disgust at the thought of what she had learned just prior to Erik's arrival.

"I owed him nothing. He knew," she stated bitterly. "Raoul always knew. But he wanted me, so he did his best to split us up and make me marry him. He robbed me – us - denied us our chance at happiness." She laughed, cringing at the shrill, almost hysteric sound of her own voice. "And to think I felt like I owed him, that I had somehow betrayed him, not loved him as much as I should have..."

Erik gave her a questioning look. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Were we not careful enough, did your husband suspect something, after we met again in Berlin?"

"No, not then," Christine's voice cut like a knife. "Much earlier. He knew the moment we met again at the Opéra, after my debut performance. He figured it out right away that my heart belonged to my Angel of Music, and yet... he wanted me, even if it meant he had to break my heart first."

Erik stared at her disbelievingly. "But you did not love me yet, back then,..." he murmured.

Christine shook her head. "I think I did," she confessed. "I just did not realize yet, how much you meant to me. I was too young, too inexperienced in matters of the heart, and too confused." She smiled at Erik and her hand reached up to his face, tracing the seam of his mask. "May I?" she asked shyly. "I want to see my Angel's true face."

Erik winced. "Are you sure?" he asked nervously. Even though Christine had seen his naked face before and kissed him lovingly, the thought of uncovering his deformity in front of anybody still upset him.

Christine nodded. "No more pretending and half-truths anymore. Not between us."

Erik had to admit that she had a point. He therefore gingerly reached for his mask and removed it. Christine's smile broadened at the sight of his beloved face and her fingers gently caressed Erik's disfigured right cheek, brushing lightly over his marred flesh. "I love you so much," she whispered. "To think that I almost lost you because of my loyalty to my dead husband, a loyalty he did not even deserve. That I came very close to driving you away a third time."

For a moment Erik forgot everything around them and simply basked in her caress. How often had he dreamed of such a moment, how many times had he feared that that afternoon in Berlin roughly two years ago had been nothing but a dream?

Then he frowned, remembering something Christine had said. "What is this about your late husband?" he asked. "Why do you suddenly think him undeserving of your loyalty? What made you think he might have guessed something that neither of us knew, namely that it is me you love?" For a fleeting moment he remembered what Gertraud von Reifenstein had told him about her suspicions concerning the late Vicomte. Was it possible that she had been right? Had the Vicomte known all along, and had Christine somehow stumbled upon proof for his actions?

Christine gazed at the desk, where Raoul's journal was still lying. "His diary," she murmured. "It's all in there. He wanted me at any cost. He did not think about what might be best for me." She wrapped her arms around Erik's torso and rested her head against his chest. "He was nothing like you," she whispered. "You thought of me first. You did what you thought was best for me and would make me happy. You let me go, even though it broke your heart."

Christine suddenly jumped up, went to the desk, retrieved the diary and, sitting back down in Erik's lap and resting herself comfortably against his chest, she held the book out to him. "Here," she said, "read for yourself. Nobody else I would have believed if they had told me this about Raoul, but his own words, his own handwriting..." Christine sobbed. "There is no doubt," she whispered. "It was all a lie, and I almost fell for it and would have sacrificed our happiness..."

Erik put a comforting arm around Christine and held Raoul's journal in the other. He felt anger rising within him at reading the confession of his former rival's guilt. He was shocked. How could the Vicomte have acted so selfishly? How could he have treated Christine like a prize that he wanted to win?

"That bastard!" he snarled. "I'd kill him for that if he were not dead already!" Then a thought struck him and he stiffened. Was what the Vicomte had done so different from his own actions back then? True, he had let Christine go in the end, but before that? He remembered the jealous madness of those days, the murderous frenzy that had possessed him, and he groaned.

"Just like myself," he rasped. "We both were just thinking of ourselves. Neither of us asked what you wanted. We both tried to manipulate you, to influence you in our favor."

Christine shook her head. "You were nothing like him," she objected. "You let me go, when you thought I loved him. He _knew_ that I loved you and still held me captive, even beyond the grave..."

Erik laid the journal aside and pulled her into a tight embrace. "In the end," he confessed. "In the end I let you go, but before that... " He shuddered. "Remember how I appeared at the masquerade? How I followed you to the cemetery? How I even joined you on the stage after..." He paused. Piangi's death still weighed heavily on his conscience.

"Just like him I tried every trick in my book to keep you, even though I was convinced you loved him. After all, I had heard your declarations of love on the rooftop and seen you two kiss each other." He gently brushed a stray lock out of Christine's face. "But just like me, he is setting you free in the end. I do not think that it is a coincidence that you finally found his confession. Perhaps he cannot truly find peace in the afterlife before he has righted the wrong. Perhaps the fact that you finally got this diary is a sign that he gives us his blessing."

Christine thought about it for a moment. "Maybe,..." she said hesitantly. She still could not imagine Raoul feeling anything other than furious about her marrying Erik.

"You forgave me," Erik reminded her. "You should forgive him as well. We both were in love. We both desired you. We both were driven insane by jealousy. But it is all in the past now. You are free now, and we are finally together. And remember, how insane I was back then. Don't you think that deep down he might have believed to act in your best interest despite everything? I definitely was not safe to be around in those days..."

Christine sighed. "It is hard," she confessed. "I feel so used, so hurt. I always thought Raoul loved me, but this..."

"He did love you," Erik reassured her. "That's why he did it. And he sent you his diary now, when these revelations could ensure your happiness."

"But why would he want us to be together now?" Christine wondered. "He loathed you. The thought of you and me raising the girls together... it would have given him nightmares."

Erik smiled at her. "The thought of you and the two adorable little angels being destitute and without a male protector might be even more scaring. For their sakes you must forgive him. I will do my best to be a good stepfather to them..."

He stopped, grinning. "Here I am talking about becoming a stepfather and I have not even asked you yet!" He made Christine stand up, then knelt down in front of her. "Christine, will you do me the honor of marrying me? I cannot offer you a title, but I love you with all my heart, my house is waiting for its mistress and her children, and our life would be filled with music."

"Yes!" Christine pulled him to his feet, so that he was now towering above her. "Yes, my angel, I want nothing more than to become your wife." They looked deep into each other's eyes, then Erik slowly lowered his head and their lips met in a kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other, pulling them as close together as possible, as their tongues met and their kiss deepened.

This kiss was like a revelation to both of them. There was passion and long-denied desire, but there also was a feeling of belonging, of tenderness and of awe. For the first time ever they kissed, not only knowing that they loved each other, but also knowing that they would be able to build a future together.

When they finally broke apart for breath, Erik smiled at Christine. "Please say you will marry me as soon as possible," he begged. "The mourning period for your late husband is over, you have remained faithful for as long as anybody could ask you to, and your current financial situation is not one I would want you to endure for much longer."

Christine nodded, then hesitated. "The children, Erik," she reminded him. "What will Amélie and Isabelle say if I give their father a successor?"

"I hope they will come to see me as their best friend," Erik told her. "As the man that brought laughter and happiness and music back into their mother's life." He looked at Christine. "They do like music, do they not?"

Christine smiled. "They are my father's true granddaughters," she admitted. "It's in their blood. There never was any music around our home as long as Raoul lived, but after his death, I told them the truth about my past as a diva, and I began singing again." She blushed deeply. "Mostly your songs," she confessed. "I felt kind of close to you when singing them. They love my singing, and they are both quite talented. They can carry a tune and are singing simple folk-songs already."

"I am looking forward to hearing all three of you sing," Erik said, then stiffened. He had heard the front door going. Antoinette was apparently coming home from the market with the two little angels, and he was not wearing his mask. Under no circumstances could he allow the children to see his bare face. That view would give them nightmares. He looked around and spotted the discarded garment lying on a side table next to the armchair where he and Christine had been sitting.

While he was still rushing for his mask, the door opened, and the two little girls stormed in. Erik instinctively turned around so that his back was facing towards them.

"Maman!" the children exclaimed excitedly. "He is back, your angel-friend! We met him in the park." They hugged their mother, for the moment not noticing the tall man behind her, that was desperately trying to put his mask back on. "He said he would come here and that he knows you are still his friend. Did you see him? His name is Erik, and he is really nice. We are his friends also..."

Christine smiled at her daughters' excitement. "Yes," she said, "Erik is here, and fortunately he still is my friend and is not mad at me for the pain I caused him once." Her eyes were sparkling and she looked radiant in her new-found happiness. Mme. Giry had no doubts anymore that she was facing a bride-to-be.

Christine turned around, to introduce her fiancé , when she realized he was facing away from them, fumbling with his mask. "Erik," she said softly, gently laying a hand on his upper arm as if to turn him around. "Angel, there is no need for your mask. You are with your family, you do not need to hide behind that cover."

Erik did not turn. "The children," he whispered, his voice sounding pained at the thought that they might shun him if they saw the abomination which passed for his face. "My face would give them nightmares."

Christine hugged him from behind, resting her face on his shoulder. "They are strong," she told him. "They are my daughters after all. When Raoul had his accident, he was not a pretty sight either, but they understood that it would hurt him if they shunned him because of that. They already know that your face is unusual and that you have suffered a great deal because people judged you by your looks and did not give you a chance because of your face. Did you hear how excited they are that they finally met you? They know what a kind person you are, that you were there for me, when my papa died and that you taught me how to sing. They will love you despite your face."

Erik shivered. "What if not?" he whispered. "What if they fear me, once they have seen... Christine, do not ask that of me. I could lose you all."

"Trust me," Christine's arms pulled him even closer to her. "Remember? No more half-truths. If we want to truly become a family there must be honesty from everybody involved."

"Erik-Angel," Amélie's sweet little voice sounded from behind. "We know that you are ugly. But it is not your fault and you are our friend. We like you."

"I am here with you," Christine whispered to Erik. "We are facing this together. Come, love, show your face to your future daughters."

Erik's whole body shook. He did not know what to do. He had no desire whatsoever to scare the little angels that he already loved so dearly, but Christine had a point. There had been too many lies and half-truths already in their relationship and apparently also in her marriage. It was finally time for the truth.

Slowly, slowly, he turned around, ready to jump back at the first sign of distress from one of the children. He showed them first his flawless left cheek, then closed his eyes to be spared the disgust on their little faces once they spotted his disfigurement and finally showed them the right side of his face as well.

Amélie's and Isabelle's eyes widened. Whatever they had expected it was nothing like what met their eyes. How could anybody live with a face like that? Isabelle grabbed for her sister's hand and held onto it. Neither girl spoke for a few minutes.

Erik finally dared open his eyes and look at them. The fact that neither girl had started screaming in terror at the sight of his deformity somewhat encouraged him. But his heart sank when he saw the sadness in Amélie's eyes. Surely the little angel was trying her best to suppress her disgust. He felt his heart break at that thought, when the adorable miniature version of his Christine walked up to him, pointed at his face and asked, her voice full of compassion, "does it hurt very much, Erik-Angel?"

Erik's heart melted. He shook his head, unable to speak. Fighting back tears, he finally managed to mumble, "no, not really. Only when people fear me or are disgusted by me because of it."

Amélie grinned. She was relieved to hear that Erik's face did not hurt him. "That's fine then," she declared.

Erik pulled Christine into his arms and hid his face in her curls. "Your daughter is an angel." he whispered. "Oh Christine, what did I do to deserve the three of you?"

"You love us," Christine replied. "Unconditionally. That's why we love you too." Then she turned to the children. "Amélie, Isabelle," she told them. "Erik wants us to stay together always. We will live with him and be a family. I have already told him that this is fine with me."

Amélie frowned. "Does it mean, Erik-Angel will be our new papa?" she asked curiously.

Erik nodded. "In a way," he explained. "Of course I do not want to replace your father, but I would be there for you, love you, care for you, provide for you and protect you like a father. It is called a stepfather. You would all come with me to my big, new house in Berlin, and we would all be together forever." He glanced at Mme. Giry. "Your aunt Antoinette and her daughter would come with us as well," he added.

The children smiled. "Can we take the sheep?" Isabelle asked.

Erik hesitated. He had not taken the pets into consideration. But then, his garden was large enough for them, and surely there could be found a way to transport the animals halfway across Europe if one offered the right amount of money. He nodded. "Yes, we will find a way to take the sheep," he promised.

The children screamed with delight. Erik bent down and scooped up one little girl with each of his arms, then he stood up again and faced Christine, who put her arms around all three of them and smiled at them. "I love you," she whispered, deeply moved. "All three of you."


	32. Heaven

Wow! That must be a new record - two stories updated within less than 24 hours! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the previous one. Once again, thank you to everybody who has been reading, reviewing, adding to favorites or putting on alert, and a special welcome to new reviewer hicdracones. I see you have finally caught up with this story. I really enjoy reading your reviews, your attention to detail is amazing! To all you others, I love every single review, it really helps me with my stories to see what you liked, found touching, hilarious or whatever!

Anyway, on to the next chapter. There is a wedding ahead... ;-)

Just so there is no misunderstanding: I don't own POTO or anything vaguely connected to it...

Chapter 32 – Heaven

To the children's delight, Erik stayed for lunch. Once Meg returned from her costume fitting, he discussed his plans for the future with the women. They would all stay in Paris for a few more days, so that Erik could make arrangements for the sheep to be moved to Paris and Christine and Antoinette could pack whatever they and the children would need in the immediate future. He then would leave with the four of them for Italy. Meg would have to stay behind, since she could be released from her contract only at the end of the run of the current show, which would be in about a month. But that way, she could pack up everything else the ladies might want to take to Berlin and handle the shipping of furniture and household utensils.

As soon as they would have crossed the French border, Erik and Christine would get married. "It will be safer that way," Erik explained. "Even though I doubt that anybody here in France knows that the Phantom's real name is Erik Dumesnil, I do not want to risk being recognized. If we get married abroad it will be just as valid and binding, but considerably less dangerous."

After the wedding he would take Christine on an extended honeymoon to Italy. Antoinette and the children would accompany them. That way, they would be together as a family and Mme. Giry could occasionally act as babysitter to give the newly-weds some privacy. They would all proceed to Berlin at around the same time Meg would be free from her contract, so that they would all arrive at their new home together.

Everybody agreed with this plan and the children got really excited at the thought of travelling around with their new "papa Erik-Angel". Christine was a bit concerned that the de Chagny family might give her trouble for taking the girls out of their sphere of influence, but Erik was able to allay her fears. "They probably don't care one way or another anyway," he told her. "If they did, they would have treated the three of you differently after the Vicomte's death. But I suggest you write to them, informing them of your engagement to one Erik Dumesnil, a French expatriate who is a successful composer and concert pianist in Berlin. You met him briefly during your stay with Raoul there. He apparently was quite taken with you, but since you were married at that time, did not disclose his feelings to you. Now he has heard about your husband's death from a common friend – which is true, since it was Madame von Reifenstein who first told me about the Vicomte's accident – and came to Paris to offer you his heart. Considering your common interest in music and the fact that as his wife you could perform again, you have accepted his proposal, especially since he will be able to support you and your daughters in a way that you could easily do without whatever small pension they are paying you now. He will also take care of your daughters' dowry, once the time comes. Thus the de Chagnys won't have any financial obligations towards you and our little angels anymore. If you explain it to them that way, I bet they won't have any problems with your new marriage or the fact that you are moving to Berlin with the children. On the contrary, they will be relieved to be rid of the three of you."

Mme. Giry agreed that this was the best way of action. "You might add our future address in Berlin," she suggested, "so that they cannot complain that they have no idea of their little relatives' whereabouts, though I doubt that will be any concern of theirs."

Christine smiled and immediately sat down to draft the letter, while Erik went to make some inquiries on how best to move the sheep to Berlin. He promised he would be back for dinner, though.

When Erik returned in the late afternoon, he had good news. A shipment of thoroughbred horses from London would pass through Paris the following week. The animals were going to various places all over Europe, two of them being destined for Berlin. "It will be possible to transport the two sheep in the same wagon with the horses," he explained. "A gentleman from the train station will come and pick them up Wednesday next week. That way the pets will already be waiting for us, when we arrive in Berlin."

After dinner, Christine lead Erik into the parlor and pointed at the piano. "Will you play for me, my angel?" She asked.

Erik smiled at her. "If you will sing for me, my love?" he replied.

Amélie and Isabelle jumped up and down excitedly. They loved their mother's singing and they were dying to hear Erik play, since they had heard so much already about his talent. "Oh please, maman, Erik-Angel, please play and sing," they begged. "We want to listen to you!"

Mme. Giry joined in. "Maybe now I can finally hear this supposedly so magnificent song that you wrote for Christine to perform at a certain bazaar two years ago," she told Erik. "So far I have not been able to convince her to sing it for me..."

Erik turned to Christine. "You have not sung that particular song in such a long time?" he asked his fiancée.

Christine shook her head. "I could not," she whispered. "It was too personal. I would have given away too much about my feelings..." Her eyes met Erik's and she blushed under his adoring gaze. "I think I would have died if I had not been able to marry you now," she whispered softly.

Erik pulled her into an embrace. "I never heard you sing it either," he reminded her, "since I could not attend that bazaar, but Nadir was raving about how inspired your performance had been. Will you sing it for me now?"

Christine nodded eagerly and went to retrieve her copy of the song from the bookshelf. Erik sat down on the piano bench and began to play. Christine's clear voice soon joined the piano. "Who knows when love begins," she sang, thinking how true this was. She certainly could not tell when exactly she had fallen in love with Erik. She now felt as if she had always loved him, since the beginning of time. When she reached the refrain, Erik's voice fell in, merging perfectly with hers. "Love never dies," they sang together, faces radiating with love, eyes burning into each other's eyes with passion.

The children's jaws dropped. They had known their mother was a great singer, but their Erik-Angel was beyond fantastic, and the way the two voices blended together in perfect harmony was incredible. Mme. Giry, too, had tears in her eyes. The lyrics and the music were such a strong testimony to the love that united her two protégés. Once the couple had finished the song, she hugged first Christine, then Erik. "I cannot tell you enough how happy I am for the two of you," she told them. "I only now realized just how deep and strong your love really is. This song is a masterpiece, Erik. It conveys both your feelings perfectly."

Xxxx

A few days later, the family was on the way to Italy. They crossed the Swiss border at the earliest convenience and spent a few days in a small village in the Alps. There, Erik and Christine were married by the village priest. Since Christine was a widow, she had not thought a white wedding dress to be appropriate. Erik had therefore bought her a marvelous cream-colored gown. The two girls wore cute bridesmaids' dresses of the same material, and Mme. Giry gave Christine away.

Erik thought his heart would burst with love, when he saw Christine walk down the aisle on Antoinette's arm, preceded by the two girls, who were both carrying huge bouquets of red roses. The priest smiled. It was not often that he joined a couple in matrimony whose love was as obvious as that of these two foreigners.

Erik was fighting back tears, when he pronounced his vows, that would finally bind Christine to him for all eternity. He could barely believe that this was real, that after all the pain and the waiting, his love would finally find its fulfillment. He would have Christine around every minute of every day for the rest of his life, he would be able to provide for her, to love her, protect her, and cherish her. Her and the two little angels, who were looking at them in wonder, their eyes wide open with excitement and round like saucers.

Then it was Christine's turn. Her tiny hand reached for Erik's, as she repeated the words of the vow, and her eyes were shining bright with love. A love that she had had to suppress and hide for so long, but that she could now freely express.

After they exchanged rings, the priest finally proclaimed them husband and wife, then turned to Erik and told him, "you may kiss your bride now."

Erik looked deep into Christine's eyes. "Christine, I love you," he whispered, before their lips met in their first kiss as a married couple.

The girls cheered. As young as they were, they instinctively sensed that the bond between their mother and her angel was a rare and very special one. "Erik-Angel," they asked, "are you our new papa now?"

Erik nodded and hugged them both. "My little angels," he whispered, "yes, we are a true family now."

The following night, sleeping arrangements were changed. Mme. Giry moved in with the girls, so that Christine could be with her new husband. The children were a bit jealous of Erik at first, that he would be sleeping with their mother now, but accepted Mme. Giry's explanation that newly-wed couples used to share a bed, that this was simply a part of getting married. Mme. Giry remembered just in time that Raoul and Christine had had separate bedrooms after Isabelle's birth, and therefore stressed the newly-wed part of her explanation. "If they want, they may continue to do so later," she added, "some couples do, some don't. It will be up to them." The girls nodded, even though they did not quite understand what this was about. But if having to share their mother with Erik was the price they had to pay for getting such a wonderful papa, then that was fine with them. They had never mentioned it, but not having a father had somehow set them apart from other children. As much as they had loved Raoul and missed him, they had often secretly hoped to get a new father one day, so that they would be like other children, have a complete family with two parents.

Xxxx

In their room, Erik faced his bride. No, wife, he reminded himself. Christine was now his wife. How beautiful she looked in her bridal attire, how desirable. The moment he had dreamed of for so long was finally approaching. He and Christine would be joined body and soul. He took her into his arms and kissed her, softly at first, but the kiss turned more and more passionate. "I love you so much," Erik groaned, "I want to make you mine in every sense of the word, but..." He looked down, embarrassed. "I am new to this, I have never done this before. I do not want to hurt you or disappoint you..."

"Sh, my angel," Christine cooed, silencing him with yet another kiss. "Don't worry," she panted, once they finally broke apart so that they could breath. "You will do great. I want you, and only you, in a way I never wanted Raoul. Your kisses make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. They fill me with a longing, a desire for much, much more. Please, Angel, I need you, I need us to become one. I have waited for this so long..."

Erik did not need any more encouragement. His hands and lips began roaming all over Christine's face and body, slowly removing her clothes in the process. Christine writhed with pleasure at his touch and clawed at his garments to remove the last barrier between them. The moment the last item of clothing fell away and they both were naked, they thought they would burst if they waited one second longer, and once their bodies finally joined, they both felt as if they had been incomplete until now and had finally been united with the other half of their soul.

Afterwards, they were lying in each other's arms, content and fulfilled. "Thank you, Angel," Christine murmured, "I thought I knew what physical love was like, but you have elevated this to a totally new level for me, made me experience pleasure so exquisite I never would have thought possible."

Erik smiled at her. He was still getting used to the concept that he had a wife now, a living bride, and that he had just made love to her. For the first time in his life he had made love to a woman, and Christine had not only allowed him to touch her in such a way, she had encouraged him and obviously enjoyed the whole process.

"Thank _you_," he reverently whispered into her ear, "for looking beyond my face, for learning to love the deformed monster and for opening heaven for me by becoming my wife."

They kissed and made love again...

Xxxx

The next day, the family proceeded to Italy. Erik had decided to show his four ladies, as he called them, around. They stopped for a few days in each major city, and Erik made sure that the visiting program always had something that would appeal to the children as well. He showered Christine and the girls with gifts, bought them the prettiest dresses, jewelry for Christine and toys for the girls. When he started buying gifts for Mme. Giry as well, she at first protested, telling him that she had some money of her own, but Erik quickly silenced her.

"You have always been like a sister to me, Antoinette," he told her, "from the moment you helped me escape from the gypsies, to when you took my family in and provided them with a home when I did not yet have the right to do so. I can never thank you enough for all that you have done for me. You are living with us now, and I therefore want you to represent my family the same way Christine and out little girls do. I am rich enough to support a sister in addition to a wife and children and I don't want you to be dressed like the poor relative. If you feel you owe me for that, I am sure there will be enough for you to do, once we are home in Berlin. The house is fairly large, and there is a huge garden. Darius alone cannot manage it all. We will probably have to hire a maid for Christine as well, that you can supervise. If Christine starts singing again, as she has indicated she might want to do, we will also need somebody to look after the children when we both are working. We need you there with us, but as a member of my household you cannot look like a paid servant. You need to represent."

Mme. Giry finally hugged him and accepted his generous offer. "You act like a true brother, Erik" she said, patting his shoulder fondly.

A few days later, Erik received a letter from Nadir, informing him that the sheep had safely arrived in Berlin. "You could have warned me that your new family will be bringing pets," Nadir wrote. "Darius at first believed they were meant for the kitchen. Sheep are quite tasty, as you know!" Erik chuckled as he read that, but decided it was better not to tell the children that their servant had wanted to cook their beloved pets.

Meg also wrote regularly, informing them on the progress of packing up the items they wanted to keep and preparing those for shipment to Berlin. Christine and Mme. Giry wrote back, telling her about all the wonderful experiences they had had on their trip and how sorry they were that she could not be with them. "But we'll see each other again soon," Christine promised. "You should be free from your contract by the end of this week, right? Then, how soon can you be ready to leave Paris? Will you be able to arrive in Berlin the Friday after that? That's when we are planning to return home..."

Christine wrote another letter, that one to Gertraud von Reifenstein. She was looking forward to seeing her friend again and to being able to thank her personally for all her help and support during the past two years. She told her in detail, how she had found out about Raoul's deception and how Erik had arrived just in time to comfort her. How perfectly her daughters and Erik were getting along - "it almost seems as if they were truly his," she wrote, "Erik certainly could not love them more if they were" - and how incredibly happy she now was as the cherished wife of the man she had always loved. "Erik is spoiling us," she told Gertraud. "I have no idea when I will be able to wear all those beautiful gowns he has bought me, and my little girls are dressed like princesses. He treats us like queens and he makes it very clear at every occasion, that he is extremely proud of his wife and daughters."

Then Christine went on describing to Gertraud what they had seen in Italy, which cities they had visited - "I fell in love with Rome, but the girls were most impressed with the pigeons at Piazza di San Marco in Venice" - and finally ended her letter, promising that they would arrive in Berlin Friday of next week.

"I hope to see you again soon," Christine signed off," your friend Christine Dumesnil." And underneath she wrote. "yes, that is my name now, and it will remain that way till the day I die."


	33. Homecoming

Hi everybody, thank you so much for your continued support. Everybody who reads one of my stories is precious to me, but those that add one to their favorites, put it on alert or reviews I downright adore! Without you guys none of my stories would have been possible.

As you probably suspect, this story is winding down. It is not quite finished yet, but almost. I hope all of you will move over to my new story "So Lost, So Helpless", the first few chapters are already up, so there will be no extended break between stories.

Now let's see how things go, when our family arrives in Berlin. I still don't own anything or anybody, except for you know which lady. I hope you all like what is in store for her. ;-)

Chapter 33 – Homecoming

"I tell you, the strangest things are going on in that huge, new villa two blocks down from where I live," Else von Rachwitz told her friends. "Nobody knows who the owner is, it's all very mysterious. The building is marvelous, the design is really unique, but exquisite. None of the better-known architects have been involved, though, in fact, nobody knows who the architect is either!"

Hertha von Gletthoff shook her head. "It is hard to believe that an obscure architect would be brought in for a project of that magnitude," she remarked. "And you say, nobody is living there?"

"Well," Else continued, "there seem to be some olive-skinned men around the property, probably servants of some kind. I think I have noticed two or three different fellows entering the garden." Her eyes widened. "Oh my God," she whispered, "maybe the owner is some foreign dignitary, a Rajah or Mogul or something! The villa certainly seems large enough to house a harem!"

Gertraud von Reifenstein silently looked around, her gaze moving from one guest at her little tea party to another, and bit her tongue not to laugh out loud. She had troubles keeping a straight face at this conversation. She knew a lot more about the villa in question and the family that would soon inhabit it than she let on. She even knew exactly when that family would be arriving in Berlin and that she would be meeting them at the train station. She had kept the secret so far, but Christine and her husband would be arriving in a few days and take up residence at their new home, and then everybody would know who the owner was anyway. Could she spill the beans now and share her knowledge with the other ladies?

Gertraud's thoughts were interrupted by another one of her friends. "What is this talk about there being a farm connected to the house?" Ellen Riedemann asked. "Is it true that cattle, pigs and other livestock have been delivered there as I have heard?"

"That certainly is an exaggeration," Else retorted. "My maid Rike only mentioned some sheep, and not too many, maybe two? But I ask you, who would keep sheep here in town? Horses I would have expected. Surely, somebody of the social status these people must have will need a few good horses for their carriages and maybe for riding, but sheep?" She rolled her eyes in fake indignation.

Gertraud laughed out loud. She knew it was pointless to try and keep the secret much longer. She was dying to reveal the truth to her friends. "These sheep are pets," she said, shaking with laughter.

Hertha gave her a concerned look. "Be careful Gertraud," she told her. "Calm down. This extreme hilarity cannot be good for you..."

Gertraud grimaced. "I am not sick," she retorted. "Just pregnant. Don't start treating me like an invalid. It's bad enough that my Albrecht would like to wrap me up in cotton wool so that nothing bad can happen to me or the baby!" But when she noticed her friends' shocked faces, she relented. "I will try my best to stay calm," she promised. "But your speculations about this villa and its owner are just too hilarious."

"You have to admit, that whoever it is has done his best to conceal his identity so far," Thea Völker reminded her."And sheep and foreigners around the property certainly add a touch of mystery to the whole situation..."

Gertraud nodded, still smiling. "I guess you are right," she admitted. "But the explanation is really simple. The sheep are pets, as I just said. They belong to the children of the house. The foreign-looking gentlemen are Persians, they are close friends of the owner. One of them is indeed some kind of servant, while the other is... I guess you could say he is the owner's business associate. The owner himself will soon take residence in the house, and will bring a rather large family with him."

Gertraud paused for effect. "You know him well," she then added slowly. "In fact I know for sure that you have all met him before. Here, in this house. At one of my tea parties."

The other women gasped. "Who?" they asked. "We have met several interesting gentlemen here over the past few years, you have such great connections and always introduce us to the most fascinating people!"

Gertraud smiled an enigmatic smile, while her eyes briefly passed over the piano. "You ask who?" she repeated her friends' question. "My answer is, it's the most romantic gentleman I have ever had the pleasure of hosting for tea."

The ladies gasped, as one after the other realized who Gertraud was referring to. "You mean..." Ellen finally managed to say.

"It can't be...," Hertha interjected. "As far as I know he has no family."

Gertraud grinned. "Erik Dumesnil," she confirmed. "He has designed the villa himself, for – her. They are currently on their honeymoon, but he will return to Berlin soon and bring his new wife with him. The woman to whom he dedicated all those songs."

The ladies were in a turmoil now. All hell broke lose as they all started talking at the same time. "How do you know?" - "Did she finally accept his proposal?" - "What made her wait so long?" - "How romantic!" - "I knew she could not resist so much love forever!" - "He designed the house? How sweet!"- "How poetic, how touching!"

Gertraud laughed again. "You want me to stay calm and then you cause such a fracas!" she playfully chastised her friends. "Just listen to me, I'll tell you as much as I know." She leant back comfortably, one hand protectively lying on her already slightly bulging belly and began to tell a simplified version of Christine and Erik's story.

"Mme. Dumesnil is rather young," Gertraud began, "and the age difference between her and the musician may have been one reason why she turned him down when he first wooed her. There may have been others. Fact is, that she rebuffed him and married another suitor, who was closer to her in age. A rich, attractive young man, in one word, the ideal husband. M. Dumesnil could not bear seeing her with her husband and therefore left his home-country of France and moved here. But he could not forget her and began writing those wonderful songs as a tribute to his lost love. Thanks to these, he became successful and famous, but he was not a happy man. Then, one day he learned that his beloved had become a widow, so he decided to try his luck again. He proposed to her after the appropriate time of mourning had passed, and this time she accepted. They got married soon afterwards. Mme. Dumesnil has children from her previous marriage. The two sheep belong to them, they are their beloved pets. But in addition to his wife and stepchildren M. Dumesnil will bring his widowed foster sister and her daughter here as well. They will all live together in this new villa."

Gertraud's friends were impressed. "How do you know all these things?" Ellen asked. She sighed. "She was married, that's why he did not use her name in the dedications of his songbooks. How utterly poetic!"

"Did your godmother tell you all these details?" Hertha wanted to know.

Gertraud smiled. "I do have my sources," she told the other ladies. Then she looked around. It had just occurred to her that she would have to re-introduce Christine into society. An idea was forming in her head. "What would you say," she asked slowly, "if I could do another tea party with Dumesnil like the one we had two and a half years ago, only this time, he would bring his wife. That way, you could all meet her and see for yourself what she is like."

The ladies' eyes went big and round with awe. "You think you can do that?" Else asked.

"Before anybody else meets her? Please!" Thea begged.

"I wonder what she is like," Ellen chimed in, "if she really is so special that she was worth all the pain she caused him!"

"Do you think he will play for us again?" Hertha asked. "He might not want to, if he is accompanied by his wife. I mean, if he entertains us, he cannot sit next to her holding hands or such..."

Gertraud liked her plan more and more. Such an event would be the perfect way of getting Christine back into their circle and re-establish her as a singer – one, that sooner or later might perform in public with her husband.

"I cannot promise you anything just yet," she said apologetically. "I have not planned it through yet, I just thought of it myself. Of course I have to ask the Dumesnils, but then, it would be a good opportunity for them to make connections. With a wife, a sister, a niece and children here in Berlin, Dumesnil certainly cannot continue his solitary lifestyle. He will need to go out more, if only for the ladies' sake."

Xxxx

About a week later, Erik and Christine arrived in Berlin with Antoinette and the two girls. They were met at the station by Nadir and Darius, who had brought a huge carriage to transport all the luggage from the train station to their new home. Amélie and Isabelle were a bit shy at first, when they saw the two olive-skinned men, but once they noticed how much they seemed to like their Erik-Angel papa, and how happy they were to have him back, the children loosened up.

Christine suddenly beamed. She had spotted another familiar face in the background. "Gertraud!" she exclaimed, making her way through the crowd. Once she reached her friend, her eyes widened, as she realized, why Gertraud had not been running u to her but was standing in a quiet corner. "Oh Gertraud, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, eying Gertraud's swollen abdomen. "Why did you not tell me? How far along are you?"

Gertraud grinned sheepishly. "I wanted to surprise you," she told Christine. "And it's still close to four months until my Albrecht will have his heir." Gertraud rolled her eyes. "At least I hope it will be an heir," she confided in Christine. "If this is a girl and I have to go through all this again..." She groaned. "I need a boy," she continued. "Our family laws are similar to those of your first husband's family. If something happened to my Albrecht and I had no son... That thought was what convinced me to try for a baby. But I swear to you, if this is a girl, I'll scream. Going through all this once, the morning sickness, the plump ugliness, the aching back and feet etc., is bad enough, but twice!" She rolled her eyes. "How could you bear doing this a second time?"

Christine blushed deeply. She looked around if Erik was within earshot, and when she saw him a good distance away with her daughters, carrying their little suitcases to the carriage, she whispered. "I think it's three times now."

Gertraud stared at her in shock. "You mean, you are... again?" And as Christine nodded, she added confused, "but why? Surely there are no such laws in Monsieur Dumesnil's family, and you already have these two adorable girls, who your husband seems to love..."

Christine smiled happily. "Yes, Erik and the children love each other very much. But still... I hope I am not mistaken... I would love to have another child, a token of my and Erik's love..."

Gertraud shook her head disbelievingly. "I would not do this again if I were you," she admitted, "but if you want to know for sure if we can expect yet another addition to your family within the next nine months, you can come with me tomorrow. I have an appointment with the midwife to make sure all is going well. She can probably tell you if your suspicion is correct."

Christine smiled. After two pregnancies she knew the symptoms and was fairly certain she was expecting again, but she wanted confirmation before she would tell Erik."When?" she asked. "Where?"

Gertraud thought about it for a few moments. "I'll stop by your new villa tomorrow morning at 10:30. We can say I am taking you on a picnic or something. Just us two, you know, having some catching up to do. I don't think you should bring the girls. Then we go see the midwife, and if she confirms your suspicion, you will have some good news to tell your husband at your return."

Christine beamed. She loved the plan. That way, she would be seeing her friend again the next day, they could talk a bit more, and, hopefully by tomorrow evening she would know for sure, if she was truly carrying Erik's child, as she thought she might.

Gertraud grinned. "I also have to ask you and your husband a favor," she added. "I hope you will be able to convince him to do this, but we will have more time to discuss that tomorrow."

The two friends hugged, and Gertraud took her leave, while Christine followed her family to the carriage.

"Maman, Uncle Nadir just told us our sheep have arrived!" Isabelle exclaimed excitedly, when Christine joined them in the carriage, and Amélie added, "they can live in the stable with the horses in winter, but they also got a cute little shelter in the garden, for when it is raining, Darius said!"

Nadir chuckled. He remembered only too well, how Darius had refused at first to treat the two animals as anything other than a potential food source. "Do these sheep have names?" he asked the girls. "I am afraid, we did not know, so we could not call them by their proper names."

Amélie and Isabelle looked at each other. "Names?" they stammered. "We always called them mama sheep and baby sheep!"

Nadir grinned. "The baby sheep is fully grown now, so that name is not suitable anymore. You need to find pretty names for your woolly companions. They are both girls, just like you. So what do you think? They are both clean and white and soft and cuddly. I would therefore call them Blanche and Fleur."

The girls beamed. "I bet they will like their new names," Amélie stated. "What do you think, papa Erik-Angel? Maman?"

Erik looked at Christine, and both smiled at the children's enthusiasm. "Those are excellent names," Erik commented, "and very suitable for your fluffy playmates."

Christine felt her heart burst with love. She was incredibly blessed to have Erik in her life now, to be able to observe each day, how he and the two girls grew closer, how he was becoming a father to them, as understanding and loving as her own dear papa had been to her.

In the meantime the carriage had arrived at their new home. Erik jumped out first, then helped Christine and Antoinette, while Nadir followed with the two girls.

"Welcome to your new home," Erik told the ladies and children. "This is where we all will live from now on. I designed the house and garden myself. It is large enough for all of us, including Meg, who will arrive the day after tomorrow. I hope you like it!"

Christine's eyes widened. The house was the single most beautiful building she had ever seen. It was surrounded by a large garden which was fenced in by a high hedge, thus ensuring them privacy. "In this garden, Erik will be able to walk around without his mask on," Christine thought happily. Together with Antoinette and the children she followed Erik into the garden, while Nadir and Darius, who had driven the carriage, began unloading the luggage.

The more they saw, the more the two ladies and the little girls fell in love with their new home. There was a huge terrace at the backside of the house, where one could have meals during the warm season. Large rosebushes had been planted next to it, the first ones already in bloom. A kitchen garden could be found in one corner of their estate, while the stable for the horses and the sheep shelter were located at the other end of the garden. "We would not want the horses or sheep to eat our vegetables," Erik explained, then turned around yet another corner to show them a lovely playground, complete with swings, slides, a seesaw, a tiny sandpit and a rope ladder hanging down from a large tree.

The children screamed with delight. "Is that ours?" they asked. "Really? May we try?"

Erik smiled. "Yes, that I all yours. You may play here any time you like, and once you have made friends in Berlin, you may invite them over to play with you here. You may try everything, though I have a feeling your mother would prefer you to change into more suitable attire first. And I also think you want to say hello first to – what do you call them now? Blanche and Fleur?"

"Our sheep!" The girls exclaimed, then ran over to the newly built shelter, behind which the two cuddly animals were hiding. They hugged the pets and stroked them, telling them that they had finally chosen names for them, and that the mother sheep would now be Blanche, while her baby's name was Fleur. "Do you like those names?" they asked. The sheep bleated happily, obviously glad to see the children's familiar faces.

Erik turned to Christine. "Now let me show you the house," he said, his voice husky with anticipation, how she would like the layout and the furnishings he had chosen for her.

Christine beamed at him. "Oh Erik, this is simply marvelous," she told him. "I cannot thank you enough for the beautiful home you have prepared for us. From what I have seen already, the children and I will be very happy and very comfortable here and I do feel at home already. If the house is only half as great as the garden – and I know it will be – then I will feel like a princess in a fairy tale." She snuggled up to him. "My Angel," she whispered. "My fairy-tale prince!" Erik pulled her into a tight embrace, and their lips met in a passionate kiss.

Mme. Giry smiled. "Go ahead," she told them, "show Christine the house, Erik, I will be staying here with the children as long as they want to play with the sheep."

Erik and Christine thanked her, and hand in hand they ran up to the terrace. Once they reached the huge French window, which lead into the house, Erik stopped. He looked Christine in the eyes and said, "welcome to our home, my love. I have always dreamed that one day I could have a life like any other man, a normal life, with a wife and a family. Thanks to your love I finally do have this." He picked her up bridal style and carried her across the threshold.

Once inside the house Erik put Christine down. She hugged him, then rested her head against his chest. "I have finally found home, Erik," she whispered. "As wonderful as this house is, my true home is here. In your arms, in your heart."


	34. Settling In

Surprise! Second story updated today! I could not well disappoint my loyal readers who were waiting for their regular Saturday-update of this story, or could I? Thank you all for reading, especially those of you who have added this story to their favorites or put it on alert, and a very special thank you to all my reviewers, in particular those that have reviewed every single chapter of this story so far, or almost every single one. There is only a handful of you, but you are all special to me, every single one!

Well, we are getting close to the end of this story, but we have not quite reached it yet. There is a little bit more lying ahead for our couple and their extended family.

I still don't own anything or anybody, but I am proud to announce that this one is now officially my second-longest story ever, second only to "Guide and Guardian", which I guess, will be hard to beat. But onto the next chapter, I won't keep you waiting any longer. ;-)

Chapter 34 – Settling In

Erik showed Christine their new home. The rooms were spacious and the furniture exquisite. The master bedroom was truly awesome. It combined elements reminiscent of Erik's lair underneath the opera with lighter colors and elements of a more feminine character. Christine immediately fell in love with the room. She blushed at the sight of the large four-poster bed with its bright red covers. "If I am right, then in about eight months our baby will be born there," she thought.

Erik then showed her the room he had chosen for the two girls. It was almost as large as their own bedroom. The furniture was white with an egg-shell finish, in addition to a huge wardrobe and two beds there was a small cabinet for toys, a book shelf and two tiny desks. "For when they start school," Erik explained, "or if they want to draw or do some handicraft..."

Christine smiled. The room was almost prettier than the one her daughters had shared at the de Chagny mansion. "They will love it," she assured Erik. "This is perfect for our girls." Erik smiled back at her. While Amélie and Isabelle were not his biological children, he was certain that he could not love them more if they were. "Our girls," he repeated reverently.

They did not enter the other bedrooms, but Erik explained to Christine which one was Nadir's, Mme. Giry's, Meg's and even Darius' room. Then he lead his wife downstairs and showed her the common rooms. There was a lovely parlor, where they could receive visitors, a dining room with a huge table that would seat them all, a living room with a beautiful fireplace and cosy chairs, a library, a winter garden and a huge music room that housed a beautiful grand piano, a huge book-shelf full of sheet music and a cabinet with various smaller instruments.

They had just finished their tour of the house when Nadir and Darius came in, carrying the last pieces of luggage. "How do you like your new home, Madame Christine?" Nadir asked. He was delighted with the way Erik had changed since he had last seen him a few weeks ago. His friend was more relaxed now and almost glowing with happiness. Nadir had no doubts that he had to thank this slip of a woman and her two adorable little girls for bringing that new glint of self-confidence to Erik's eyes.

"Oh, please call me Christine," Christine told him. "You are my husband's best friend and were there for him when he needed a friend after..." She looked down in embarrassment. "After I hurt him so much," she whispered.

Erik put his arm around her. "That is long forgotten, my love," he told her, raising her chin, so that he could look her into the eyes. "You have made me the happiest man on this earth now by becoming my wife."

Nadir smiled. The deep bond of love and affection between the couple was touching. He cleared his throat to alert them to his continued presence, then turned to Christine. "If you will call me Nadir," he offered. Christine gladly accepted.

Then Nadir asked, winking at Erik, "have you met your staff already, Christine?"

Christine looked at Erik. "We do have a staff?" she asked. "I thought Darius... and me and Meg and Mme. Giry..."

Erik grinned at her. "I will not allow my wife, sister or niece to do the heavy household chores. Now if the three of you want to bake a cake every now and then, do some sewing or other needlework, tend to the flowers in the garden or similar easy work, I won't have any objections. You and Antoinette will also have your hands full with the children. I hope you will help me with my music and take up singing again, and Meg is planning to audition at the Berlin Opera and will probably land a job as ballerina there. Neither of you will have the time to run such a large house and garden, cook for all of us, do our laundry, care for the sheep and horses etc. Darius will take care of some of these things, but there obviously is too much work for just one person. So I asked Nadir to hire a few more trustworthy individuals."

"The new servants are waiting for you in the kitchen, Miss Christine," Darius announced in a dignified way. It was clear that he considered himself the master over the newly hired colleagues.

"Then I will not make them wait any longer," Christine decided. "I am sure they have lots of work to do," and she followed Darius, who showed her the way to the servants' realm. Erik and Nadir followed her, hanging slightly back.

Once Christine entered the kitchen, her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the two middle-aged ladies and the lanky teenager, who were standing there, smiling at her with love. "Colette!" she exclaimed, hugging the former housekeeper at the de Chagny-estate in Brittany, then turned to the former cook there and her son. "Marie, Etienne! What are you all doing here?"

"Oh Madame," Colette smiled, tears in her eyes, "it was no fun working for the new Vicomte. We had all considered leaving more than once, if only we had known where to go, when two weeks ago I received a letter from a Monsieur Khan, telling me that his friend, the composer Dumesnil, had recently married our former mistress and would I like working for her again, even though it meant leaving my home-country. He also mentioned that Marie and Etienne would be equally welcome, if they wanted to join me. So I discussed this with them and we decided all three that we would love to work for our dear mistress and her adorable little princesses again. Since we were paid weekly, we could leave by the end of the week and come here." She beamed. "Marie and I will be taking care of the house, laundry and cooking, Etienne will help Darius with the garden and the animals and with other heavy chores such as cutting firewood."

Christine beamed. She turned to the men and looked from Erik to Nadir. "Thank you," she told them, "whichever of you had that idea." As she noticed Nadir winking at Erik again, she had no doubt anymore, who had brought the loyal servants here. "That is probably the best surprise you had prepared for me today, my love," she beamed at Erik, affectionately squeezing his hand.

The couple was so busy looking adoringly into each other's eyes that they did not notice Colette mustering Erik's face with a scrutinizing gaze, then nodding, smiling to herself.

Xxxx

A while later, Christine went to the master bedroom with Colette, so that they could unpack her suitcases together. Once the two women were alone, Colette smiled at Christine. "I wanted to congratulate you on your new marriage, Madame," Colette said warmly. "And to tell you that we are all three proud to work for you and Monsieur Dumesnil." She paused hesitantly, as if not quite sure how to continue. "We...," she began again, then cleared her throat. "Forgive me, if I am out of line, Madame," she stammered, "but... the master... we had a suspicion who he might be, even though we had never heard his name before. But he is a composer, and we all agreed that you would not marry just anybody you had just met. And I know now that we were right. We... we are all three happy for you, and the past is the past."

Christine stared at her, open-mouthed. "What are you talking about?" she asked uncertainly.

"You have finally found him again, haven't you?" Colette answered smiling. "Your voice teacher, the... the man who burned down the Opéra Populaire out of love for you, the..." She looked around, then whispered conspiratorially, "the Phantom."

As Colette noticed Christine's uneasiness, she smiled at her encouragingly. "He has nothing to fear from us," she told her mistress. "It is obvious that the master is a gentleman and that he loves you and the two princesses with all his heart. He may have done things in the past that he should not have done, but who knows how we would have reacted in his place. Those without sin may have a right to judge him, I do not count myself among those."

Christine smiled relieved. "I will tell Erik that you know, it might make him more comfortable around you, and... maybe one day I will be able to convince him to take off his mask at home."

Colette smiled. "It is barely visible. I doubt I would have noticed it, had I not specifically looked out for signs of a mask. We are grateful to him for returning you and the little demoiselles to the social status you deserve, for allowing us to work for you again, and we hope...," Colette blushed. "We hope that you will be able to sing again now, we have been dying for years to hear you sing!"

Xxxx

The next day, Gertraud came for Christine and together the two ladies paid a visit to the midwife. The latter had only expected Gertraud, but immediately agreed to examine Christine as well, when she heard that the young lady suspected she might be expecting as well. A little while later, the friendly woman smiled at the two friends. "Congratulations to both of you," she said. "Everything is fine with you and your baby, Madame von Reifenstein, in about three and a half months you should be able to finally hold your little one for the first time, and you, Madame Dumesnil, were absolutely right, you are with child as well. You are only a few weeks along, maybe a month, but there is no doubt about it." She paused for a moment, then continued, "this is not your first pregnancy, though, am I correct?"

Christine blushed. Everybody in Berlin knew that Erik Dumesnil had been unattached when he last performed at the concert hall a little while back and that her marriage to him must therefore be a rather recent one. "Monsieur Dumesnil is my second husband," she explained. "I was a widow, when he married me. I have two daughters from my first marriage."

The midwife nodded, glad that she had not stumbled upon some delicate family secret. "Then you probably know what to expect," she smiled at Christine. "Come by every other month or so to make sure that everything is fine, and in about eight months you will have another little bundle of joy to coddle."

Christine smiled, then nervously asked, "are you sure that everything is fine so far?" She bit her lip. She was not going to mention Erik's disfigurement, but she knew he would be concerned about passing it on to a child.

The midwife gave her a reassuring nod. "Everything is fine, why are you concerned? Have there been complications with your previous pregnancies?"

Christine nodded, glad that she could use Isabelle's birth as an explanation for her unease. "When my second daughter was born, I very nearly died," she confessed. "I had a very difficult delivery, and I am of course a bit concerned that everything is fine this time around."

The midwife smiled. The woman in front of her was so young, she looked barely older than twenty. If she had already had two children, it was obvious that she must have been very young when she had them and the two babies must have arrived at rather short intervals. "Let me guess," she said, "you were very young when you got married and had your first child within the first year, probably tried to breast-feed her, and got pregnant again almost immediately after weaning the first baby. Am I correct?"

Christine nodded. "How did you know?"

The midwife smiled again. "I do have some experience with childbirth, my dear. Two babies at a short interval may drain the mother if she is still very young, and then the delivery of the second one may be difficult. But you are strong and healthy now. This pregnancy should not cause you any troubles. If you are concerned about anything, do not hesitate to stop by and consult with me, but from what I can see right now, I do not expect any complications."

Relieved, Christine left with Gertraud and the two ladies headed towards the von Reifenstein-residence for a light lunch. Once they were comfortably seated, munching on the delicious food, Gertraud told Christine about her project to reintroduce her as Madame Dumesnil to their common friends.

"It would be so much fun," Gertraud explained. "Imagine their faces when they realize it is you! And you and your husband could perform for us then, maybe you could sing that song he wrote for you, the one you graced us with at the bazaar. Remember, I have the sheet music, since my Albrecht bought it for me. The song is unpublished, and thus would be a very special piece for that occasion, something they have not grown tired of yet, because it is sung at every other musical soirée."

Christine hesitated. She did like the idea, but she was not sure how Erik would react to such a request. "I have to discuss this with Erik," she finally decided. "I would love to do this, but you know that he is a bit of a reclusive and does not like to socialize."

Gertraud grinned. "He will have to change," she said. "He has a beautiful wife now, and his foster sister and her daughter are living with you as well, right? In addition, he has two stepdaughters, who in a few years will have to be introduced into society. For the sake of you ladies, he will have to go out a bit more often, accompany the three of you to certain events. He cannot continue to live like a hermit as he used to do while still single. Such a small event would help him take the first steps in the right direction and get used to that sort of things. You should also bring your foster mother and sister, we need to introduce them to our friends as well and with all of you around, your husband will feel more at ease. I will also ask my godmother and her husband, they are good friends of his."

Christine knew that Gertraud was right, that she herself as well as the two Girys would soon be invited to various events, and that Erik would have to accompany them to most of these. "I will talk to my husband," she promised. "I will let you know his decision."

"Try to convince him," Gertraud begged. "if he agrees, we should do it soon. What about Wednesday next week? Would that work for you?"

Christine laughed. "We have only just arrived," she reminded Gertraud. "We are not swamped with social obligations yet. If Erik agrees, we can do it next week, and I will suggest that particular song to him."

Xxx

That night, when Christine and Erik retired to their bedroom, Christine brought up Gertraud's suggestion with her husband. "I said I would ask you," she ended. "I could not decide for you, but some of the points she made are valid."

Erik nodded. He knew that he could not expect the three ladies to live in isolation. It was only natural that Christine would want to reconnect with her group of friends from two years ago, and Antoinette and Meg deserved a chance as well to go out and make new friends. If Meg did indeed get hired at the Opera, which he was sure of, given her talent, she would also have to frequent all sorts of festivities and events. It would not be entirely appropriate for her to attend with only her mother as a chaperone. The presence of a male family member would add a certain degree of decorum, which would be especially welcome, considering her profession as a performing artist.

He thought about it for a moment. He knew and trusted Gertraud, and if Johann and Dora Lüders were there as well, and Christine and the Girys... "How many ladies would Madame von Reifenstein invite to this afternoon tea-party?" he asked cautiously.

"Not too many," Christine assured him. "She mentioned something like it would be more or less the same group of people that attended your first performance there... maybe fifteen, us included, give or take a few."

Erik nodded. "You would like to do this, would you not?" he asked, knowing the answer.

Christine smiled at him. "I would like to meet my friends again, yes, and I would like to make them realize how incredibly lucky I am to be loved by you, and how proud I am of your achievements. I would also like to perform with you in front of them. But if you are not comfortable with that idea, I will understand. After all, I know why you are so ill at ease among strangers." she gazed at him lovingly, while her fingers reached for the seam of his mask, trying to peel it off for the day.

"I think I will be able to do this," Erik finally decided, "after all, you, Antoinette and Meg will be with me and make sure that none of the others ladies gets too close and notices my mask."

Christine giggled. She had waited for the right moment to tell him that their servants knew who he was and now he had provided her with the perfect cue. "It is not that obvious," she informed him. "Colette assured me that she would never have noticed it if she had not looked out for it."

Erik stared at her in shock. "Colette said what?" he gasped.

Christine caressed his deformed cheek. "They know who you are," she said softly. "They knew when they learned about me having remarried. They do not mind. They are happy for us, and they hope you will allow me to sing so that they can finally listen to me. They are proud to work for us. You have nothing to fear."

Erik groaned. This was a bit much for one evening. First he was persuaded to attend an afternoon tea with Christine's friends and perform for them, then he learned that his new servants knew about his previous crimes at the Opéra Populaire. "I hope you have no more shocking news for me tonight, my dear," he said wearily, pulling Christine into a tight embrace and kissing her passionately.

Once they broke apart for air, Christine smiled at Erik. "Nothing shocking or frightening," she reassured him. "The last bit of news I have for you is simply wonderful." She cupped his beloved face with her hands and beamed at him. "You are going to be a father, Erik. I am with child."


	35. Music

I am back! Second update for the day! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, putting on alert or adding to favorites! Your support for this story is well noted and very much appreciated. We are almost at the end, not quite, but almost, and I want to thank you all for staying with me for the duration of this story.

And just a small reminder, I do not own anything or anybody. Unfortunately!

Chapter 35 - Music

Erik stared at his wife in shock. "You are... what?" he gasped. "Are you sure?"

Christine nodded, smiling at him. "Yes. Gertraud had an appointment with the midwife and I went with her. The midwife confirmed my suspicion. I am only at the end of my first month of pregnancy, but she is positive that everything is fine and that in about eight months we will have another little darling to cherish."

Erik was still in shock. "What if," he murmured, "what if the baby is like me? Oh Christine, I never wanted to burden you with a freak of a child..."

Christine hugged her husband and rested her head against his chest, so that she could feel his heartbeat. "I will love our baby, no matter what he or she looks like," she told him. "Just the same way I love you. But I doubt this will happen, the midwife assured me that everything seems fine to her."

Erik winced. "You told her about your concerns," he asked nervously. "About... this?" He pointed at his disfigured face.

"Not directly," Christine reassured him. "I did ask if she expected problems, but I used Isabelle's difficult birth as an explanation for my concerns. She told me, though, that I need not worry, everything is as it should be."

Erik's eyes widened even more in shock. "Isabelle's difficult birth?" he rasped. "You never told me. What was the problem?"

Christine bit her lip. She realized too late that she should not have mentioned her near-death, since this particular revelation would scare Erik. "I was too young," she began. "I should not have had a second baby so close to the first one, especially since I had been breast-feeding Amélie. The midwife says that when very young ladies have two children so close together, it will drain the mother and as a result the second delivery may be difficult, even dangerous."

"You nearly died," Erik stated calmly. "Your nervous babbling makes this obvious to me. You almost died and are trying to hide this fact from me, so that I won't be worried about you for the next eight months or so."

Christine snuggled even closer to him. "You need not worry," she told him. "The midwife says that I am now strong and healthy enough for another baby. I am confident that everything will go well, and hopefully, we won't have to take drastic measures afterwards to make sure I won't get pregnant again too soon."

Erik frowned. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Drastic measures? I do not understand."

Christine blushed. "After Isabelle was born, the doctor told Raoul that I should not have another baby for at least two years, better three, and thus we..." she blushed even more. "We did not... I mean, we had separate bedrooms afterwards. And then he died..."

"Are you telling me," Erik's voice was shaking with barely suppressed joy, "that you and Raoul... that you did not act as husband and wife after Isabelle's birth?"

Christine nodded. "We were thinking about trying for a son, about sharing a bedroom again, when he died. Once I got pregnant with Isabelle was the last time Raoul and I were together in that way."

Erik's chest was heaving. "It pained me so much to imagine you in the Vicomte's arms," he confessed, "especially after you told me it was me you loved, and it never happened! You never had to betray me after that day two years ago..."

Christine beamed at him. "No, I could remain faithful to you. Of course if Raoul had not died, I would eventually have had to sleep with him again, and... " she shuddered. It would have been extremely difficult for her to submit to Raoul's lovemaking, once she had realized that it was Erik she loved, and she was grateful, that had never happened.

Erik pulled her close. "I am glad, you finally told me, my love," he said. "It does make me happy to know that you never truly were his anymore after you had confessed your love to me. As for the rest, you should have told me about the problems you had when Isabelle was born. I will be worried now, no matter what the midwife said, I don't know what I would do if I lost you in childbirth."

"I am confident that won't happen," Christine tried to reassure him. "The midwife said there is no reason to worry, I am strong and healthy enough now to have our baby and she is convinced that everything will go smoothly this time."

Erik lay awake for a long time that night, pondering all the things he had learned. He realized that being a husband and father was not always just mere bliss, that his life with Christine would also require him to broaden his horizon in more ways than one. He felt uneasy at the thought of having to attend a tea-party the following week, and knowing that his servants had guessed his true identity did not really help, but what worried him most was Christine's confession that she had almost died during Isabelle's birth. Erik finally decided that he would be trying his best to make her life as easy and as happy as possible. That way, maybe, if he could make some sacrifices and adjustments for her sake, God would be merciful and spare his Christine's life when it would be time for her to give birth again.

Xxxx

The next day Christine sent word to Gertraud that Erik had agreed to attend the tea-party the following week. Mme. Giry and Meg, who had just arrived, would both be pleased to accompany them. Therefore Gertraud sent out invitations to all her friends, informing them that she had been able to convince Monsieur and Madame Dumesnil to grace her little gathering with their presence.

As the ladies met in Gertraud's parlor the next week, they were all extremely giddy. Meeting the reclusive composer was exciting enough, but they would also be able to meet that mysterious woman for whom he had pined for so long, the one who had inspired all those magnificent, extremely romantic songs, that they all loved so much.

"I wonder what she is like," Ellen murmured for at least the fifth time. "Do you think she is really all that special? Can any woman deserve such devotion?"

"Why not?" Hertha retorted. "You are just jealous that you have not found a man yet who worships you like that."

Ellen rolled her eyes. "I certainly would not go and marry somebody else if I had a suitor like Dumesnil," she replied tartly. "Imagine being serenaded with songs like that..."

"You don't know the circumstances," Thea reminded her. "Maybe there was family pressure or something. Maybe she has suffered just as much as he has."

Gertraud smiled. She was looking forward to watching her friends' faces when they recognized Christine. Dora Lüders squeezed her hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement. After all, she, too, knew who the mysterious Madame Dumesnil was.

"They should be here soon," Dora told Gertraud. "Erik promised me he would arrive by 4:30 at the latest with his three ladies."

At that moment, the butler opened the door and showed in a group of people. Erik was surrounded by Christine, Antoinette and Meg, and for a moment, all Gertraud's friends could see was a flurry of colorful, very expensive female robes around a tall, slender figure.

Gertraud went to greet her guests. "Thank you for coming, Monsieur Dumesnil," she welcomed Erik, then turned to the ladies, smiling. She kissed Christine on the cheek, then did the same with the two Girys. "I am so glad to see you all again," she announced happily. "And that you are all staying here now, together."

Mme. Giry gave her a dignified nod. "When Erik invited us to come with them, we did not think about it twice," she admitted. "I would not have wanted to stay in Paris any longer, I would have missed them both, as well as the children."

In the meantime, Christine, possessively holding on to Erik's arm, had approached her former friends. "Good afternoon," she greeted them. "It is nice to see you all again."

The ladies gasped. "Christine de Chagny," Else finally mumbled. "How... why...?"

Christine smiled. "It is Christine Dumesnil now," she explained, gazing lovingly at her slightly nervous husband. "My first husband died in an accident over a year ago. Erik and I got married soon after the year of mourning was over."

"You knew the whole time!" Hertha accused Gertraud. "You knew that Christine is now Madame Dumesnil, yet did not tell us!"

Gertraud grinned mischievously. "I hope I am forgiven," she said, "since I got you both of them here for today's tea-party, and they even promised they would perform..."

"Oh my God," Susanna exclaimed, looking at Christine. "We should have guessed it. That song you sang at the bazaar..." She turned towards Erik. "You wrote that specifically for her, didn't you?" And as he nodded, she continued, "the way you sang that, should have given us a clue, Christine. You poured your heart into that song."

Christine looked up at Erik, to see if he was ready, then informed the ladies, "Erik and I have decided to perform that particular song for you again today. Gertraud specifically asked for it, she thought you might want to hear it."

The ladies cheered at that announcement, and Erik lead Christine to the piano. They looked each other in the eyes, then Erik began to play the introduction and soon Christine's voice fell in. "Who knows when love begins, who knows what makes it start," she sang. Her friends watched and listened in awe. They realized that they were witnessing something special, a couple that had gone through pain and separation, but whose love had survived and only grown stronger despite those trials and tribulations. They understood what that particular song must have meant to both of them when Erik had first written it and Christine had performed it at the bazaar, at a time, when she had been honor-bound to another and it had seemed as if there would be no future for their love.

When Christine reached the final verses of the song, Erik's voice joined hers, and, their gazes locked, they finished the song together. They did not seem to notice their audience, they were completely lost in their love and their music. Most of the ladies were fighting back tears, so touched were they by this very unique display of the couple's affection for each other.

The whole room remained silent for a few seconds after Christine and Erik had finished their performance, then roaring applause exploded. "Bravi!" the ladies exclaimed, "that was exquisite!" Not even Ellen had doubts anymore that these two truly belonged together and deserved each other.

Gertraud finally reminded everybody that this was a tea party and that their special guests certainly were hungry and thirsty and escorted Christine and Erik to a nearby table, making sure that Erik got a seat as far away from any light source as possible. She knew him well enough by now to have noticed this preference for dark spots, even though she did not know the true reason for it.

Gertraud also introduced Antoinette and Meg to her friends, informing all that these were Erik's foster sister and niece. Christine smiled. "They are also my foster mother and sister," she explained.

Thea gave Ellen a victorious look. "I knew it," she whispered. "Circumstances were against them. She is roughly the same age as his niece and as his sister's foster daughter something like his niece as well. I bet they did not even dare acknowledge their feelings for each other until it was too late and she was married to that Vicomte who looked as if he had bitten into a lemon when she sang at the bazaar. I bet that man never truly appreciated her wonderful voice. I am glad that fate gave them a second chance, though. It is obvious that they belong together."

She then turned to Christine. "Now that you are married to a musician," she asked, "will you perform as well? We always thought that your voice is good enough for the stage."

Christine smiled. "Johann and Dora Lüders asked me the same question yesterday, when they were over at our house for tea," she admitted, "and Erik and I promised that we would give it some thought. It probably won't be the opera, for I want to spend as much time as possible with my children and therefore won't have enough time for rehearsals, costume fittings and all that, in addition to performances. But the occasional concert or recital, especially if Erik accompanies me on the piano..." She adoringly glanced at her husband, who quickly added, that he would certainly be delighted to introduce his wonderful songbird of a wife to concert-goers.

The afternoon turned out to be a huge success for everybody involved. Gertraud was congratulated by the ladies on her amazing surprise, Christine reconnected with her former friends and was unanimously accepted as the mysterious woman in Erik's life, who had finally become Madame Dumesnil, Antoinette and Meg were warmly welcomed by the other guests and assured that as Christine's and Erik's relatives they would have no trouble at all being accepted by society, and even Erik thought that it had been a great experience to perform together with Christine in front of all these people, and how strange it was that nobody had noticed his mask.

"We will have to do something like this more often," Gertraud finally told Christine.

"You might have to get in line with an additional invitation," Christine answered with a grin. "Dora Lüders has asked us to perform at her soiree on Monday, and Else is trying to put something together for the end of next week. Of course, for you we will make time, or at least, we ladies will. Erik, of course, needs time to himself, in order to write new music. He is working on a few things now," she confided into her friend, "and he will also perform at the concert hall next month..."

Gertraud laughed. "I will keep that in mind," she promised, "and always ask you months in advance, when I want you two to sing and play for my guests!"

Xxxx

Erik had to admit that the afternoon at Gertraud's had gone better than expected. The ladies had all been very gracious, they had seemed genuinely happy to have Christine back and had extended a heartfelt welcome to Antoinette and Meg. They had also been very appreciative of Christine's talent, and instead of finding it shocking that one of them might perform in front of an audience, they seemed truly proud of Christine's achievements as a singer. He would therefore gladly accept the offer extended to him by his friends and publishers Johann and Dora Lüders, to write a few new songs for Christine and perform them with her at a special recital before the publication of the songbook. The Lüders had also suggested a concert with full orchestra, where Christine could sing some of her favorite arias, and he could possibly join her for a duet or two. Erik would have to think about this. He would probably be a bit too much in the spotlight for his taste, if he accepted such an offer, but then, it certainly was tempting to sing with Christine, accompanied by a full orchestra, the way they had sung together that long ago night, at the ill-fated performance of his "Don Juan Triumphant".

This could wait, though, until after the baby was born. Erik definitely did not want Christine to perform in public once she would start showing, which would be in a few months. Unless he had finished his new selection of songs and studied them with Christine by then, her official debut in Berlin would have to be delayed until she had had their baby. That thought once again scared him. If only everything went well, if only he would not lose her in childbirth...

Xxxx

That evening, after dinner, Erik asked Colette, Marie, Etienne and Darius to join the family in the music room. Once they were all assembled there, he addressed the servants. "It has been brought to my attention that you would like to hear my wife sing," Erik said. "And while we have been rehearsing a bit over the past few days, and you may have caught a bit of a song here and there while working in a near-by room, we both think that you deserve a private performance. We will therefore repeat for you the song that we performed at a tea-party this afternoon."

He sat down on the piano bench and motioned for Christine to join him at the piano. Then he began to play the introduction, and once again, Christine sang the song about their love that would never die, no matter what, and live on, even after their deaths.

Once they were finished, Colette wiped tears from her face. "Oh Monsieur," she gasped, "that was wonderful. Madame, you sang like an angel, thank you so much for allowing us to witness such a great performance."

She then turned to Erik and breathed deeply, summoning her courage. "Monsieur," she finally said, "there is something we wanted to tell you. Madame has probably told you that we... know... about your face," she babbled. "And we also know that Madame and the other ladies, even the little princesses have seen it, and that Madame would like you to... be more comfortable at home, not having to wear your mask constantly in front of us. We therefore want you to know, that it is fine with us. We will be able to get used to your face just like our mistress, and we won't think any less of you because of it."

At her first words, Erik had been extremely uncomfortable, and on the verge of getting seriously angry, but Christine's tiny hand had somehow found its way into his, squeezing it affectionately, and her eyes had beamed at him with so much love, that he had composed himself somewhat. Once Colette ended her little speech, he was therefore able to reply calmly. "I will take this into consideration," he promised nervously. "Your offer is certainly appreciated. I just will have to decide whether or not I want to expose the three of you," he looked at Darius, "you have seen it already," he remarked, then turned to Colette again. "If I want to expose the three of you to the horror that lies beneath that mask," he finished, his voice sounding pained and full of self-hatred.

Colette realized how much this man despised himself for something that was not his fault. She had heard terrible things about the famous Opera Ghost, but she was convinced that those were all horrible exaggerations, blown way out of proportion. She knew her master a bit now, and she had never seen a more devoted husband, a more doting father – and that, though the girls were not really his. There was no doubt in her heart whatsoever, that her master was a good man, a gentleman at heart, and a very talented musician.

She therefore nodded at Erik. "I understand," she told him, "but please keep in mind that we would feel honored if you deemed us worthy to see your true face. It would mean so much to us to have your trust."


	36. Face

Hi everybody, I hope you will forgive me for not updating this story last weekend. I am sorry, I knew you were waiting, but there simply was too much going on and I did not get around to writing another chapter. Anyway, it's ready now. There will be another one next week, but that will probably be it. I guess I will be able to wrap up the remaining lose ends with this final chapter, and then this story will be over. Thank you all for sticking with it till the end!

I cannot repeat often enough how much every review, every follower and every favorite means to me, though, of course, those that only read also are important, and I see from the numbers of visitors, how many of you are reading my stories. I certainly could not do it without you. I probably would not have gotten past the first chapter of my first story if it had not been for the support of all my readers. Thank you all!

Okay, so once again, I do not own... wait a minute, I do own the Reifensteins! ;-)

Chapter 36 - Face

A few weeks passed, during which Erik and his three ladies accepted several more invitations to smaller and medium-sized events, where Erik and Christine usually performed one or two songs together. Sometimes Erik also improvised on the piano, mesmerizing the attendees with his expressive, innovative harmonies and chords.

Having the Dumesnils perform at one of your soirées soon became an absolute must for any family of importance, and thus Erik and Christine got flooded with invitations, so that it became impossible for them to meet with all the many requests. With the help of Gertraud and the Lüders-couple they carefully chose which invitations to accept, making sure that the Berlin society would not tire of their performances due to over-exposure to them.

Erik gave another one of his rare public concerts slightly over a month after his return to Berlin, to roaring applause. The rave reviews not only mentioned his flawless technique and soulful, inspired rendition of the difficult concerto he had played, but also mentioned the three beautiful ladies and the two adorable little girls, who had occupied the seats next to the organizer of the concert, Johann Lüders and his wife, together with an austere, oriental-looking gentleman.

"Despite his huge success, Dumesnil seemed to have eyes for nobody but his family," one reviewer wrote. "It is rare to see such devotion to one's family, and it is clear now, where the exceptional musician finds the inspiration for his unusually touching compositions and the expressive, emotional interpretations of the works of other masters."

One or two also mentioned the fact that Mme. Dumesnil was an accomplished singer, "who has already given us some hints of her talent at smaller, private musical events, and who will be making her debut in the Berlin concert halls next spring."

Two days after the concert, Meg had her audition at the Berlin Opera and totally awed the managers with her fluid motions and solid technique, that made her execute even the most complicated movements seemingly without effort. She immediately was promised a solo part in the first fall production after the summer break. Her casting made headlines again, and all of Berlin was even more impressed with this incredibly talented Dumesnil-family.

Xxxx

Summer put an end to the so-called Berlin season, since many families left town for their summer residences in the countryside. Erik and his family stayed, though. Their garden was huge enough and so close to the lake, that they had no need for a change of scenery.

Gertraud and her husband did not leave Berlin either. Gertraud's baby was due in the second half of August and she did not want to be too far away from the midwife and the medical facilities of the larger town so close to her delivery. Gertraud was getting a bit nervous. In a way she could not wait for the baby to be born, to get rid of the extra weight she had been carrying around for months now, to get her figure back, but on the other hand she was scared of the actual process of giving birth, especially since she knew about Christine's problems during Isabelle's birth.

"I really don't get it how you could risk this again after what happened to you with Isabelle," she told Christine. "I am already at the end of my nerves and it's still a little while till this baby will be born. How can I get through these remaining weeks without going mad with fear? "

Christine smiled, patting her own belly which was beginning to show a small bulge. "Are you not looking forward to finally meeting your child?" she asked softly. "Why don't you focus on the joy of holding him or her for the first time, of looking into the baby's eyes, knowing that the little miracle was created by the love you share with your husband?"

Gertraud hesitated. She was not sure she had much use for a child. She had no idea how to care for such a small being and secretly feared that she would be totally unable to fulfill the responsibilities of being a mother. On the other hand, watching Christine interact with her daughters did stir something in her, a desire to be surrounded by equally adorable little ones that would look up to her the way Amélie and Isabelle did with Christine.

"I don't know," she finally admitted. "I don't think I am ready for a baby. I have no clue what they need and how to treat them. What if I am a terrible mother and screw this up badly?"

Christine laughed. "You will do great," she comforted her friend. "I had absolutely no idea either, what to expect and how to handle things when Amélie arrived, but once she was there and I held her in my arms, I knew exactly what she needed. You will see. You will fall in love with the baby the moment you lay eyes on him or her for the first time, I am sure of it. You will be a wonderful mother."

Gertraud was not convinced. "I just hope it is a boy," she sighed. "I would hate having to go through all this again."

"You won't care," Christine assured her. "You will be so in awe with your little one, that it won't matter to you if it's a boy or a girl. Of course I had been hoping for a boy as well, when I was pregnant for the first time, because I wanted to give Raoul the desired heir, but once I held my little girl, I did not mind. And the second time around, I already knew that I would love the child, whether it was a boy or a girl."

Gertraud shook her head. "You do not really need a son," she reminded Christine, "but would you not prefer one this time around, for a change, seeing that you already have two daughters?"

Christine shrugged. "It will not matter. Son or daughter, Erik and I will love our baby regardless."

Xxxx

On a sunny August afternoon, Gertraud finally gave birth to a little boy. She had been scared out of her wits once her water broke and she was hit by the first contractions, but the midwife, who was sent for immediately and arrived only half an hour later, was able to calm her down somewhat, after a quick examination had revealed that everything was fine and the baby was slowly moving into the right position.

"It won't be too long, Madame von Reifenstein," the midwife comforted the nervous mother-to-be. "Just try to relax as much as possible and follow my instructions, then this will be over in almost no time."

The birth process still took a bit too long for Gertraud's taste, even though the delivery was relatively quick, considering that it was her first child. She hated the pain and after each contraction she was absolutely convinced that she would not be able to survive another one, but somehow she did. Two hours after her water had broken, the midwife finally told her to push and soon the baby's head emerged. "Just once more," the midwife announced. "When the next contraction hits, push as strongly as you can, then you will be done." Gertraud panted nervously, as another wave of pain tore through her body. She let out a blood-curdling scream, at the same time instinctively pushing, and was rewarded by the sweetest sound she had ever heard, the cries of her newborn baby.

"Is that...?" she asked weakly, exhausted by her ordeal. "My baby?" Her heart filled with wonder at the faint cries and she felt the urge to hold this tiny creature who produced those adorable sounds.

"Yes, that is your son," the midwife explained, while cleaning up the infant. "Just let me tidy him up a bit, then you may hold him."

Gertraud smiled happily. She could not wait to see her boy, to actually hold him. All her doubts were gone and she knew with the instinct of a mother that she would love that little being, care for him, protect him and keep him safe.

When the midwife finally put the baby into her arms, Gertraud lovingly held him, mustering adoringly his cute, wrinkled, rather red little face, the tiny hands protruding from the blanket he was wrapped in and smiled at him. "Oh Lothar," she whispered, using for the first time the name she and her husband had decided upon. "You really are something." In her eyes he was the most beautiful baby ever, he was everything she could have wished for and more.

When Albrecht von Reifenstin was allowed into her room a few minutes later, he found his wife, cradling their son in her arms, lovingly looking at the little bundle of joy. He smiled. "I always knew it, Gertraud," he said. "I knew you would be the most loving, caring mother, once you could be convinced to have a baby. That's why I fell in love with you." Then he looked at his son. "Welcome to the world, Lothar," he said, and, his heart almost bursting with love, he sat down on the bed and wrapped an arm around his wife and son. "I love you," he whispered into Gertraud's ear, "both of you."

Xxxx

In September, Meg had her first solo part at the Opera in the new production of "Faust". Her whole family was in attendance, Erik had rented an entire box for himself, Christine, Nadir, Antoinette and the two girls. They all beamed with pride at Meg's success, and not even the critical eye of Mme. Giry could find the tiniest fault with her daughter's performance. Meg immediately won the hearts of the theater aficionados and everybody was wondering when she would be given the lead in a featured ballet production.

The audience had to wait till shortly before Christmas, when Meg finally got her first starring role as the title character of "La Sylphide" and once again, all of Berlin was impressed. What was more important for Meg, though, was the adoration of her male counterpart, the dashing young dancer Heinz Kaldenbück, who, encouraged by their shared triumph, finally dared asking her out for a date. "To celebrate tonight's success," he added shyly, still unsure if the fabulous French ballerina, the niece of the famous composer Dumesnil, would be interested in going out with him. Meg only smiled and happily accepted the invitation.

Xxxx

In January, Christine's baby was due. The closer she got to her due date, the more nervous Erik became, even though the midwife had assured Christine repeatedly that everything was fine and that she did not expect any complications. "You will see, this delivery will be just as quick as the one of the Reifenstein-baby," the midwife told Christine at every check-up.

Christine smiled. She did not care how long the process of giving birth would take. She was looking forward to the new addition to her family that was growing within her, and she could not wait till she could finally hold her new baby in her arms. She knew that the little one, whose frequent movements and kickings showed a restless temper, would make its appearance sooner rather than later.

The morning of New Year's Eve, she therefore approached her husband with a topic that had been bothering her for quite a while. "Erik," she begged. "You know that the girls have seen your face and have accepted you despite your looks. I want our new baby to meet its father right from the start, to know what you look like. Please, Erik, promise me, that you won't wear your mask around our child."

Erik winced. He only took off his mask in the relative safety of their bedroom and it still amazed him, how Christine could look lovingly at his bare face and kiss him. It would never occur to him to expose anybody else to his deformed features, even though not only the Girys, the girls and Nadir, but also their servants had told him time and again that they did not care and wanted him to be comfortable in his own home.

"You know that I cannot do this," he explained nervously. "Such a small baby would get nightmares. I cannot do this to our child. Not to mention that I would also have to expose the rest of the family and the servants to this monstrosity..."

"To your adorable face," Christine retorted. "I love you the way you are, and the same goes for the rest of our family. The servants do respect you and they have asked for your trust in this regard for several months now. I know that they would be honored if you considered them worthy of knowing your true face. Please Erik, believe me. I know it will take some courage to remove your mask in front of them for the first time, but I will be with you, and so will Mme. Giry, Meg, Nadir and our daughters. We will give you the moral support that will help you to summon that courage, and once they have seen you, you will hopefully understand that you do not need your mask at home." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "It will also be healthier for your face," she added, "to let the skin breath more. Please promise me that you will try to do this."

Erik brought up a few more arguments why this was absolutely impossible, but Christine insisted. She was determined to prove to Erik that he would not be shunned or feared by their loyal servants and thus make it possible for their baby to know its father's face from day one.

Erik finally agreed to give it a try. He was unable to say no to Christine, when she gave him that loving, adoring look of hers, but that did not mean he felt comfortable with his promise. When shortly before midnight, the family thanked the servants for their great work in the previous year and expressed their hope that the new year, which was about to begin, would be just as happy for all of them as the last one had been, Christine squeezed Erik's hand, smiled at him encouragingly, and whispered, "now is the time."

Erik cringed. He nervously cleared his throat, then mumbled, "my wife wants our baby to see my... that..." He pointed to his masked face. "Without... I mean... she thinks the baby can stomach..."

Christine smiled. "I know the baby will love your face," she told him. "And so will our servants, who are more friends to us than servants anyway."

"Ah... maybe..." Erik was at a loss what to say.

"We would be honored, Monsieur," Colette chimed in, "but we do not want to make you uncomfortable. If you want to reveal your face to us we will be proud that you consider us worthy of knowing the true you, but if it is too hard for you, we will understand."

Erik nodded. The warm words of the woman he had grown to respect, somewhat calmed him. "I just do not want to scare you," he admitted.

"You will not," Colette assured him.

Christine's fingers intertwined with Erik's, and her soft voice begged, "please, Erik. It means so much to all of us, including you. You will see..."

Erik summoned all his courage. "I warned you," he whispered, nervous in anticipation of the reaction he would certainly get, once his deformity was revealed. In one quick movement he tore off his mask, knowing that his determination would falter if he did this slowly and that he would then never get that garment off his marred flesh. He closed his eyes and inwardly prepared himself for the screams of horror and disgust that were bound to erupt once the servants had seen the monstrosity that passed for his face.

To his utter surprise all remained silent. He felt Christine snuggle up to him, and heard her whisper, "I told you so!"

Slowly Erik opened his eyes, expecting to find the servants had fled in horror, but to his surprise, they were all still standing there, smiling at him. "How come...?" he asked totally bewildered. "Why are you not disgusted by..." He could not believe it. He knew only too well, how utterly repulsive his deformed features were, but everybody around him was looking at him with respect, even gratitude. The servants seemed happy to finally know what he had been hiding from them for so many months.

"You are the same man without the mask," Marie finally explained. "It is the person that matters, not the looks."

Her son nodded. "You are a far better master than the one we served before," Etienne commented. "So why should we have problems with your looks?"

"The mistress loves you, Sir," Colette finally added, "and that is proof enough for us that you are a decent, respectable gentleman, no matter what your face looks like. We will always respect you and serve you both well."

Erik was speechless. Tears began running down his cheeks. Amélie and Isabelle, who had been allowed to stay up for the special occasion, were both clinging to him now, smiling. "Will you now let us look at your real face when we are at home, papa Erik-Angel?" the children asked. "We know you need that mask, because some stupid people in the streets do not understand, but we do, and with us you do not need it!"

Erik crouched down, so that he could be at eye-level with his two stepdaughters. "Would you really want me to not wear my mask at home?" he asked hesitantly.

The girls nodded eagerly. "We love you, papa Erik-Angel," they both said. "We love your face, too. And our new brother or sister will want to see it too!"

Erik laid an arm around each little girl and pulled them close. "My little angels," he whispered under tears. "If you want it too, then I guess I must go maskless in the house."

Christine beamed. "That is the best gift you could have given me for the New Year," she told Erik, caressing his deformed right cheek. "Only now are we a true family, now that you are comfortable showing your face to all of us."


	37. Birth

Sorry, sorry, sorry! I hoped I would be able to get this one done by last Monday, but real life had other plans... SIGH! Anyway, the good news is, it's not quite the last chapter yet as I thought, but I guess the next one will be it. We'll see... Thank you once again to all my loyal readers and reviewers, to those who put this story on alert or added it to their favorites. I certainly could not do it without you all! You are fabulous!

I still don't own anything or anybody whom you recognize from any version of POTO, but that's life, I guess. (shrug) And now, without further ado, pn tp the next chapter.

Chapter 37 - Birth

While Erik was able to be more relaxed at home after having revealed his face to his servants and having been accepted by them, he became more and more nervous the closer Christine got to the birth of their baby. He could not help but worry that history would repeat itself and something similar to Isabelle's birth might happen again.

Christine was touched by Erik's worry, since it only showed her how deeply he cared for her, how much he needed her and how utterly lost he would be without her. On the other hand, she wished she could somehow calm his fears and convince him that everything would be fine.

"I wish you could concentrate more on the baby," she once told Erik. "Think about it, a little being that was created by our love. Are you not looking forward to holding this child, our child?"

Erik fidgeted nervously. "All I can think of is that you almost died when you had your last baby," he whispered. "How can I not be worried? How can I not wish you were not expecting another little angel right now, and thus in danger of losing your life?"

Christine snuggled up to him, grasped his hand and put it flat on her swollen belly. "Here," she said, "feel our baby, feel our child kick. Concentrate on the joy this little one will bring us. How it will bind us together even more. That, unlike the girls, you will be around this one from the start, see the infant grow into a toddler, then a small child and a young person, be there for the entire development of this human being."

Then Christine turned to her belly and talked to her unborn child. "Little Angel," she said, "your papa is worried. He cannot yet look forward to your arrival, because he is so scared that something bad might happen to me. Give him confidence, give him a sign that everything will go fine, that your birth won't harm your mother. Allow him to forget his worries and to experience the joy that you will bring to our lives."

Erik sighed. "It is not that I do not love you already, little one," he told his unborn child. "For I do. But there is so much that has me concerned. Your mother's health and well-being are one thing, your own fate is another. What if I have passed on my curse to you? What if I have condemned an innocent being like you to a life of pain and rejection the way mine was before I met your mother, my angel, my beacon of light?"

It is hard to say whether or not the baby understood its parents' pleas, but it chose that exact moment to move. Christine smiled as she felt the kick. "Our little one will be very special," she told Erik. "I am sure he or she knows exactly what we are thinking and it wanted to reassure us that everything will be fine. Both of us, me and the child."

Erik laid his arm around her and pulled her as close as her huge belly, which was housing their child, allowed. "I just wish this were over, the baby safely in your arms instead of within your body, and both of you alive and well," he told Christine.

Christine nodded. "Soon," she said, "in a few days you will be able to hold our child."

Xxxx

About a week and a half later, in the early morning hours, Christine's water broke. Erik immediately sent Colette to get the midwife and asked Meg to take the girls out for a very long walk and preferably to lunch in a well-known restaurant as well – he knew that the process of giving birth could take hours and he did not want to expose Amélie and Isabelle to their mother's screams. In his opinion that could be rather traumatic for them. He also wanted Meg as far away from Christine's delivery as possible, since it was not appropriate for an unmarried young lady to be too closely involved in such things.

Erik summoned Mme. Giry and Marie, though, to help Christine, while they were waiting for the arrival of the midwife.

Mme. Giry laid a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder. "Calm down, Erik," she said. "You are not the first man ever to become a father, and Christine has already had two healthy babies. Believe me, all will go well. You go down to your music room and try to play. It will relax you."

Erik stared at her wildly. How could she suggest such a thing? "I will not leave Christine," he announced. "I won't let her go through this ordeal alone. It is my fault, that she is in such a condition, it would therefore be extremely unfair to let her deal with the pain and the horrors that lie ahead alone. We are in this together."

"Erik," Christine smiled at him weakly, since she was fighting to remain as relaxed as possible, while being hit by one of the first contractions. "It is not customary for the father to be present during birth..."

Erik frowned. "You do not want me here with you?" he asked surprised.

Christine shook her head. "I did not say that," she reassured him. "Just, that it is unusual. Raoul never stayed when I gave birth to our daughters."

"Well, I am not Raoul," Erik growled. "And nothing and nobody will pry me from your side, when you will be in pain and need somebody with you to comfort you, to help you relax. I stay, that is my last word."

Christine beamed. "Angel," she whispered, "my dear, dear Angel."

The tender moment between the couple was interrupted by the arrival of the midwife. "Oh, the little one is about to make its appearance," she said, smiling encouragingly at Christine. Then she turned to Erik. "Monsieur Dumesnil, if I may ask you to leave the room now," she told him. "I assure you, Madame is in the best hands and soon you will have a new son or daughter."

Erik glared at the midwife. "I am not leaving," he informed her. "Christine needs me. I am not going to abandon my wife when she is about to go through an ordeal."

"My husband won't be in the way," Christine chimed in. "But his presence will help me relax. Please, I know it is unusual, but I promise you, this will be for the best."

Christine reached for Erik's hand and grasped it, to demonstrate their bond. The midwife sighed. "It is inappropriate," she lamely objected. "A gentleman should not be around when a lady has to be so exposed during the birth of her child."

Christine grinned. "Erik is my husband," she reminded the midwife. "The father of the baby I am about to give birth to. Do you really think..." She blushed deeply. "I mean," she stammered, "how could I be expecting a baby if he... umh... were not familiar... with umh... certain parts of my anatomy?"

The midwife rolled her eyes. Of course the couple had had to be intimate in order to create a child, but doing certain things once the lights went out and one could not see too clearly was definitely different from the gentleman being allowed to look at...

Erik chuckled. "I won't look," he promised, "if that causes you concern. All I will do, is sit here, next to my wife, hold her, comfort her, let her grip my hand when the pain is too much for her to bear and try to calm her."

Christine joined his pleas. "Please," she said. "It will be so much easier for me with Erik by my side, and then, it's his baby, too. He has a right to be here when our little one is being born."

The midwife realized that the couple was determined to go through this together, and that it would cause more harm than good to send the husband out, since it would probably unnecessarily agitate the mother-to-be. So she relented.

"Fine," she said. "We will give this a try. But Monsieur, the moment I see you go queasy or give me any other reason to think that your presence here might be a hindrance, I will have to ask you to leave."

Erik sat down on the bed and put an arm around Christine. She was so pale, her face sweaty, her dark curls sticking to her face. He was worried sick that this might be the end of their time together, that the baby would cost Christine her life. He needed to be with her, to not abandon her, when the end came, he had to show her his love once again, so that she could take that feeling with her, if things went wrong, if the unthinkable happened and he lost her...

Christine smiled at Erik reassuringly. "I will be fine," she told him. "Especially with you by my side. All will go well, and in a few hours we will be able to hold our baby. Focus on that. Concentrate on the joy we will feel, when the little one will finally be here."

Erik nodded, then pulled Christine close when another contraction hit her. Christine barely suppressed a groan, but she snuggled into Erik's arm. "My pillar of strength," she whispered.

Erik began to hum to her softly and Christine relaxed visibly. The midwife was surprised. She had expected Erik to be in the way, to fret, to distract her from her work, but this Monsieur Dumesnil was different from other husbands, and his bond with his wife was unlike any other she had ever witnessed between a couple. It was obvious that her patient was much calmer than most women were in her situation, and that this was exclusively due to the presence of her husband.

Even though it was Christine's third delivery, it still took a few hours until she was sufficiently dilated and could start to push. By that time Erik was at the end of his nerves. Christine's contractions were succeeding each other in such close intervals now, that she barely seemed able to recover from the pain, before the next one hit, and he feared he might lose her any moment. But he tried his best not to show his worry. He continued to hum to her, to hold her, to show her his love and support in any way he could think of.

"If she has to go, she needs to go in peace," he thought. "She needs to be enveloped by my love, and with the knowledge that nothing can sever our bond, not even death."

"I can see the baby's head already," the midwife announced cheerfully. "At the next contraction, push with all your might, Madame!"

Christine nodded, and obediently pushed, when a wave of pain tore through her body.

"The head is out," the midwife informed her. "One more push and you should be done."

Christine nodded, trying hard to stay focused. She was almost done. Only a few more minutes... She could not finish the thought, as another wave of pain hit her. She pushed instinctively, almost breaking Erik's arm in the process, which she had grasped for support.

As Christine fell back into her pillow, exhausted, the first screams of a newborn infant resounded through the room. A beautiful smile embellished her exhausted features, as she whispered. "Our baby, Erik, can you hear our child?"

Erik nodded. He was unable to speak. Somehow this ordeal seemed over now, the baby had apparently been born and Christine – she was still alive! She was even conscious, weak and exhausted, yes, but alive and talking to him. "How are you, love?" he asked.

Christine smiled at him. "I am fine, Erik," she whispered excitedly. "Stop worrying. It is over. The baby is here!"

The midwife had in the meantime finished cleaning up the infant and had wrapped the little one in a warm blanket. "Congratulations, Madame, Monsieur," she said, laying the child into Christine's waiting arms. "You have a son."

Christine beamed. "Oh Erik, look at him," she said, "our baby. Our son. A brother for our two girls. He is adorable."

Erik hesitantly glanced at the bundle in Christine's arms, overwhelmed now by his other fear, that the baby might have inherited his deformity. "Is he...?" he nervously asked.

Christine shook her head. "He is absolutely perfect," she told him. "Look at your son, Erik." Erik finally dared looking at his son's face and gasped in wonder. The tiny little being was still red and wrinkled after having made his way through the narrow birth canal, but to him he seemed the most beautiful little boy ever. The tiny face was flawless, not the slightest unevenness or irritation of skin could be detected. The tiny head showed the beginning growth of soft hair, the same color as Christine's curls, and when the little boy opened his eyes, Erik almost felt like looking into a mirror. The baby's eyes were the exact same shape and color as his own.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Christine asked. Erik nodded, in awe.

"How is this possible?" he whispered. "How could we create such a beautiful child?"

The midwife had cleaned up Christine in the meantime as well. "I am finished here," she announced. "Madame should rest now. I will check on her tomorrow, but I do not expect any complications. Both, mother and baby are fine, and Madame, since you have had two babies already, I take it you know how to feed your new son?"

Christine nodded. "Thank you," she replied. "Yes, I know how to care for this infant."

Once the midwife had left the room, Christine looked at Erik. "Your mask," she reminded him. "Let our son see your true face."

Erik hesitated for another moment. "He is still so small, and he has just been through an ordeal as well. Imagine how different things must be for him now that he is finally out of your womb. Do you really think he is up for yet another shock?"

Christine smiled. "He is our son," she reminded Erik. "He will love your face. Trust me."

Erik took a deep breath, then slowly began to peel the mask off his face, while Christine softly talked to her newborn son. "This is your father," she told the baby. "You know and recognize his voice already, don't you? He fears you might not like him because of his unusual face. But you are not that stupid, right? You understand that true beauty is not always on the outside, but lies in a person's heart, and your papa has a heart of gold and so much love to give."

Erik had finished removing his mask and hesitantly turned towards the infant again. "I am afraid, son," he said, "that you have probably the ugliest father a child ever had. There is nothing I can do about that, but I will try my best, to be the best father you could wish for, for I love you with all my heart. You, your mother, who is the light of my life, and your two older sisters."

The baby wriggled in Christine's arms. "I think he wants you to hold him," Christine informed Erik, extending the infant to her husband.

Erik hesitated. "I …," he mumbled nervously. "Do you think... I mean... I have never... I don't want to harm him..."

Christine laughed. "It's easy," she told him. "Here, let me show you!" And she laid the baby into Erik's arms, showing him how he had to support the little head.

Erik stiffly held his son. His heart was overflowing with love for the tiny being in his arms. After the stressful hours that had preceded the boy's birth, he was finally able to relax and the joy of being a father set in. Erik smiled at the infant, then began to hum a lullaby. The baby happily settled into his father's arms and fell asleep.

Christine's heart melted at seeing father and son together like that. "You are a wonderful father, Erik," she told her husband. "You are a natural with babies. Look, how peacefully our son is sleeping now." Then she remembered something. "What do you want to call him?" she asked Erik.

Erik hesitated. Christine had approached the topic of choosing a name for the baby several times during her pregnancy, but he had never been able to concentrate on this particular problem. He had pushed the thought of the baby as far back as possible, since he had been so convinced that he would lose Christine in childbirth, and the baby would most likely not survive either. Now, he held his newborn son, and his wife was beginning to recover from her ordeal. All had gone well, despite his fears! And now he had a son and no idea what they could name the baby.

"I don't know," Erik confessed sheepishly. "I had never thought... I did not expect..."

"I told you, it would be fine," Christine gently chided him. "So, about his name. Do you have any preferences? Any name you have always liked, or a name that runs in your family?"

Erik shook his head. "How about you?" he asked. "Do you favor a certain name?"

Christine hesitated for a moment, then suggested. "I had thought about naming him after my dear papa. After all, I am sure that it was him, who sent me my Angel of Music, who made sure I met you again, and who found a way to bring us together, once I had finally realized that I belong with you."

Erik nodded. "Gustave," he said. "A good, strong name, and the name of a great musician."

Christine smiled. "We could maybe use your father's name as our son's middle name," she suggested. "Family and roots are important for a child."

"Gustave Charles," Erik tried out the name they had chosen. "Named after his two grandfathers. We certainly could do worse."

At that moment, Christine heard a commotion downstairs, and the fresh voices of her two daughters, happily telling auntie 'Toinette and uncle Nadir, where they had been and what they had seen.

"Our daughters," Christine whispered to Erik. "Meg is back with them, just in time to welcome their new brother. Please, Erik, bring them in for a few moments, so that they can see him."

Erik hesitantly put the sleeping baby back into Christine's arms and went to get Amélie and Isabelle. A few moments later, he returned with the two girls. Amélie and Isabelle tiptoed to their mother's bed. They were a bit concerned to see her so pale, but when they spotted the tiny bundle in her arms, they smiled in awe.

"How cute he is," Amélie whispered, and Isabelle added, "so tiny!"

Christine smiled. "You both were once just as tiny, but just like you, your brother will grow. Think about little Lothar von Reifenstein. He was just as tiny when he was born last summer, and now he is strong enough to sit and beginning to crawl. Our Gustave will grow and develop the same way, and in about a year he will be running around the garden with the two of you."

Erik smiled at his family. _His_ family. He still was not quite used to the fact that he, the disfigured freak, could actually have a family. But here they were, his wife, his two adorable daughters – he tended to forget that they were not biologically his, since he loved them as if they were – and his son. He, the monster, had a family. Like any normal man.


	38. Epilogue

Sorry, this took so long! I know you have all been waiting for the conclusion to this story, and several of you have asked me recently if this would ever get finished. Well, here it is now the long-awaited update, the end of this adventure. I hope you will enjoy it, and those who have not done so yet, are encouraged to check out my new story, "So Lost, So Helpless", which is about to get interesting.

I thought this chapter would be much shorter, but then I got carried away writing some of the scenes and this is now actually one of the longest chapters of this story and certainly an extremely long epilogue. I still don't own anything or anybody, except for Gertraud and the kids.

Chapter 38 - Epilogue

The following May Christine made her debut at the Berlin concert hall. Accompanied by Erik on the piano, she performed a selection of new songs that he had written specifically for that occasion. Johann Lüders had of course once again bought the rights to those songs, and the songbook was due to be released the following week.

Christine's sweet voice and her soulful rendition of Erik's haunting melodies that spoke of love, tenderness and deep feelings with an underlying passion captivated the audience and turned the concert into a huge success for the couple. Christine had to do a few encores, the last of which was "Love Never Dies". That song had become something like the couple's signature song, and it was clear to everybody in attendance by the way the composer did not even look at the piano keys but had only eyes for his wife while playing the climactic final part, and the singer likewise lost herself in her husband's gaze, that this couple's love truly would survive anything, even death.

When at the end of the concert Erik announced that his wife was preparing another recital, this time with full orchestra, performing favorite arias from popular operas, he was met with roaring applause. Everybody knew that Mme. Dumesnil was a bit reluctant to commit to singing in a production at the Opera, since she had three small children, the youngest one only a few months old, though many theater lovers wished she would change her mind on that and hire a nanny for the children. But such a concert was a good compromise. It would give the music enthusiasts a chance to hear her soar above an orchestra and sing all those arias her voice was so well suited for, while she would still be able to spend time with the little ones.

What Erik had not said, was that he had promised Christine to sing at least one duet with her. So far, Berlin only knew him as a gifted composer and pianist, and Christine was determined to make the audience notice some of his other talents as well, and of course she loved singing with him.

Xxxx

The next day, Gertraud was coming for tea to celebrate the success of the concert with her friends. She brought her son with her as well. The transformation she had gone through was remarkable. Gertraud, who at one point had not been able to imagine herself caring for a baby, had turned into the most loving, caring mother, the moment her son had been born. She doted on little Lothar and could not bear being separated from him for more than a few hours. She therefore usually took the toddler with her whenever she made visits. Most of her friends were not too pleased with the baby's presence at their tea-table, but little Lothar was always welcome in the Dumesnil-household.

"You were exceptional last night," Gertraud told Christine, hugging her friend. "Heavenly, unearthly, sublime! It is a pity that you cannot be persuaded to perform at the Opera, but..." She looked at Amélie and Isabelle, who were sitting on the floor with their little brother and her own boy. "I understand," she reassured Christine. "I would not leave my Lothar for long rehearsals and performances either. And you have not one, but three children..." There almost was an undertone of envy in her voice.

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Darius, who now also doubled as butler. "Monsieur," he announced, trying to sound as dignified as possible, "there is a Monsieur Kaldenbück, who wants to speak to you in private. He is waiting in the music room."

Erik looked up surprised. They were not expecting another guest today, and while the name Kaldenbück sounded vaguely familiar to him he was not quite sure where to place the gentleman. Then he noticed that Meg had turned as red as a tomato and he grinned. "Would that be this Heinz fellow you are usually dancing with in most productions?" he asked her, finally remembering where he had heard that name before.

Meg turned an even deeper shade of red and nodded, unable to speak. Erik chuckled. "In that case I'd better go and see what he wants," he stated, winking at her. "He would not want to complain about you stepping on his feet or something like that?"

Once Erik had left the room, Christine hugged Meg. "This is serious then?" she asked her sister. "You and Monsieur Kaldenbück...?"

Meg nodded. "I did not know he would come today," she explained, "nor that he would come at all, but I hoped... Oh Christine, I love him so much! I finally understand what binds you and Erik together the way you are connected, and... oh, I think I would have died if Heinz did not feel the same way about me!"

Xxxx

When Erik entered the music room he found a very nervous young man, that had very little in common with the striking, confident dancer he remembered from Meg's performances.

"Monsieur Kaldenbück," Erik addressed his guest, "you wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes,..." the young man stammered. "Please forgive me for coming here unannounced and making demands on your time, I am sure you have important things to attend to, more important than me, that is, and of course I am well aware that I am totally out of place, since we barely know each other, but somehow I felt like I had to know. The uncertainty is killing me, and even though my boldness in coming here may not yield the desired effect, at least I would know one way or another and could react accordingly..."

Erik smiled. It was obvious that the successful dancer was madly in love with Meg and that the uncertainty had turned him into a nervous, babbling wrack. Apparently love made men lose their common sense and confidence. He remembered only too clearly how stupidly he himself had acted when he had first fallen in love with Christine and how close he had come to losing her forever. If the Vicomte had not died when he did... Erik did not want to think about what kind of poor, solitary life he would have had then.

"Calm down, Monsieur," he reassured his visitor. "You have nothing to fear. You are not interrupting anything important, and I am pleased about this chance to get to know you a bit better. I understand you work with Meg a lot?"

Heinz Kaldenbück nodded. "Yes, Fräulein Marguerite is an exceptionally gifted dancer and it is a joy to work with her. I know it is presumptuous, considering that my family is only middle-class, while you are the most acclaimed musician in Berlin, your stepdaughters are nobility and your family is received everywhere, but ..." He blushed. "Forgive me, Monsieur Dumesnil, if I am too bold, but your esteemed niece... I can only feel complete with Fräulein Marguerite by my side, and I came here to ask you..." He breathed deeply, and summoning all his courage he continued. "I wonder if you would allow me, since you are her closest male relative, and to judge from your songs, you understand... I mean, I want to ask your permission..."

"To officially court Meg?" Erik tried his best to keep a straight face at the nervous bubbling of Meg's suitor.

Heinz nodded. "And to ask her..."

Erik seemed to give this some thought. "What does Meg say about all this?" he then asked quietly. "Does she know about your intentions, and more importantly, does she return your feelings?"

Heinz fidgeted. "I certainly hope so," he then said uneasily. "I mean, I wanted to ask your permission first before discussing this with her, but we work well together, she has attended the past cast parties with me and I have invited her to a coffee house once or twice and to dinner – all in plain sight, of course, and in reputable restaurants," he blushed. "Though not quite with a chaperone in attendance, but in the theater, this is not customary..."

Erik smiled inwardly, thinking of the night he had revealed himself to Christine and taken her to his lair. Surely he had compromised her worse then, than the innocent dinner or coffee in a crowded restaurant could compromise Meg.

"Then why do I not ask Meg to join us here so that you may find out her opinion on this?" Erik suggested, pulling the bell to summon Darius. When the latter entered, Erik told him to kindly ask Mademoiselle Meg to see him in the music room, and a few minutes later, Meg appeared. She blushed deeply when she spotted Heinz and looked uneasily from him to Erik and back.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Erik addressed her, his face unreadable. "Monsieur Kaldenbück here needs to discuss something with you, and I think it may be important for you to hear him out."

Meg beamed. Erik could not fool her. If he allowed her to talk to Heinz, he approved. She impulsively hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered.

Erik smiled. "Good luck, little Meg," he whispered back. "You have chosen well." Then he released Meg and pushed her towards Heinz. "When you are finished talking, maybe you would have some tea with us?" he suggested, then left the room. He went to join Nadir, the ladies and the children in the parlor and informed them that chances were high there would be an engagement to celebrate soon.

Half an hour later, Meg and Heinz followed, hand in hand, their faces beaming and their lips swollen from kisses. Heinz smiled at his bride, then turned to Erik and Antoinette. "Monsieur Dumesnil, Madame Giry, Fräulein Marguerite has done me the honor of accepting my proposal of marriage. We kindly ask you to give us your blessings."

Antoinette looked at the young man, whose eyes were shining bright with love for her daughter and hugged him. "My son, I see that my Meg is happy, and your love for her is obvious. See to it that she remains that happy for the rest of her life," she said.

Erik added with a twinkle in his eyes, "and remember that I might have to kill you if you make her unhappy!"

Everybody laughed and congratulated the newly engaged couple. Heinz felt very welcome in the family and was shocked, when Erik took him aside and informed him of the sum he had intended to give to Meg as a dowry. "Monsieur, that will not be necessary," he objected, "We both make a decent living with our work!"

Erik smiled and with a meaningful look at Christine and Gertraud, who had both picked up their young sons, feeding them minuscule bits of sponge cake they had dipped into milk, while Amélie and Isabelle watched in awe, as the two little boys mumbled the cake, he retorted, "I am not sure Meg will be able to dance much longer after the wedding... "

In the meantime, Gertraud, who was bouncing her chubby toddler on her lap, whispered to Meg, "don't wait too long with a baby. I could not imagine me with a child, and now that I have my little Lothar I know that I was a fool to wait so long. You may not believe me, but being a mother is the single most gratifying achievement in my life." She enviously looked at Christine's three children, before adding, "I understand now, why Christine decided to go through all the discomfort of pregnancy more than once and I..." She blushed. "Once I have completely weaned Lothar... Albrecht and I think a little girl might be nice..."

Meg blushed deeply. She loved Christine's children and Gertraud's Lothar and had always thought that one day she might have children of her own as well, but now, that she was engaged, she realized that this wish might come true in the near future. A baby that was both hers and Heinz's! The thought certainly appealed to her.

Xxxx

News of the engagement between Erik Dumesnil's niece and the head dancer of the Opera soon made their way around Berlin and Erik agreed to host a garden party in honor of the newly engaged couple. He knew that he and Christine owed many of the leading families an invitation. So far he had been reluctant to have a major event at their home, since he still feared the spotlight which might make someone realize that there was something wrong with his mask-covered face, but the fact that at this particular event everybody would be focused on Meg and Heinz, gave him the courage to risk it.

This time, Christine, Antoinette and Meg helped out in the kitchen the day before the party, making sure that all the food that could be prepared in advance would be ready, and the day of the event itself they decorated the garden with garlands, bunting and paper lanterns that Erik had designed for that specific occasion. The garden looked like something out of a fairy tale, once everything was in place and the three ladies in their beautiful new dresses seemed like enchanted princesses to Erik and to Heinz, who had arrived half an hour early, so that he could greet the guests together with his fiancée and her family.

Heinz brought with him his parents and two younger siblings. His brother Werner was twenty, and little Lisa at fifteen barely old enough for such an evening event. Heinz's father, a teacher at the elementary school in a little village just outside of Berlin, and his wife were overwhelmed by the apparent wealth of the new relatives, but Erik soon made them comfortable by mentioning that his father had been a simple stone mason.

The Reifensteins were next. Albrecht gave the hosts an apologetic look. "I know this is no event for children, but Gertraud insisted on bringing him..."

Christine smiled at Gertraud, who had little Lothar in her arms. "Come Gertraud," she told her friend. "We'll put him upstairs in Gustave's room. Colette will be keeping an eye on the children, and the two of us can take turns sneaking up and checking on our little ones."

The engagement party went extremely well and everybody agreed that the Dumesnils were not only incredibly talented musicians and very nice people, but also great hosts, who knew how to organize a large event. The food was exquisite and those decorations! They had never before seen anything like that, tasteful, yet strikingly beautiful.

When asked about a wedding date, Meg and Heinz looked to Christine and Erik for approval and then revealed that they had hoped they could get married in the fall. "October would be great," Meg explained, blushing. "Rehearsals for La Sylphide started on October 20 last year, that's when I first met Heinz."

Heinz nodded at her. "I had heard a lot about the fabulous new ballerina, but you had only danced in Faust before, where I did not have a part, so I had not met you yet. I came to rehearsals not knowing what to expect and there you were, doing your warm-up exercises, your hair put up in a bun of gold, and I knew immediately that I wanted to get to know you better."

Meg giggled. "I certainly had no idea you felt that way about me. Those first few weeks you barely dared talk to me, but when we danced together, when you held me or caught me after a jump, I felt a connection between us, and I hoped that you would feel it too."

They looked at each other, forgetting their guests and the world around them, until Erik cleared his throat and announced that October 20 sounded good to him as a wedding date.

"Will you give me away, Erik?" Meg asked.

Erik hesitated. He was not sure he wanted to be that much in the spotlight. "I had thought I would play the organ," he muttered sheepishly, "and maybe Christine could sing.." He looked at Christine for help.

"We'll think about it," Christine smiled at her husband, then turned to Meg. "Maybe we can find a way for Erik to do both..."

Xxxx

Two weeks later Christine had her opera concert with full orchestra. After a glance at the program booklet, the audience frowned. They had expected this to be a solo concert by Madame Dumesnil, but there were several numbers on the program that did require a tenor. Well, maybe not "E´strano" from "La Traviata", for there was a concert version of that scene where the violins could play Alfredo's part, but what about "Ma un'iri di pace" from Verdi's "Masnadieri" and "Tornami a dir che m'ami" from "Don Pasquale"? Those doubtlessly were duets. Who would be singing those with her? No tenor was mentioned in the program. Everybody was wondering what this oversight could possibly mean.

"Maybe they are trying to promote an unknown new singer," one lady suggested, "and did not want to use his name on the program, because it might have turned people away."

"Or maybe it's a huge-name celebrity," an elderly officer in uniform chimed in, "and they want to surprise us. We'll just have to wait and see."

Somebody noticed surprised that while they could see Meg, her fiancé Heinz, Antoinette and Nadir with Madame Dumesnil's young daughters in the audience, Monsieur Dumesnil could not be spotted. "He is probably backstage with her," a young girl said dreamily, "they seem so much in love..."

At that moment, the conductor entered and the concert began with the madness scene from "Lucia di Lammermoor". Once Christine ended on an incredibly pure high note, the audience broke into frenzied applause and could not seem to stop. Never before had they heard that particular song sung that well and that expressively. "Sombre forêt" from Rossini's "Guillaume Tell" followed and was equally well received, and then everybody was holding their breath. The long scene from "La Traviata" was next, and this would most likely be the piece revealing the identity of the tenor who would be singing the other two duets with Christine as well.

To their disappointment the tenor did not appear, but just like in the opera, where Alfredo's voice is being heard from outside, he seemed to sing from backstage, yet his voice beautifully carried into the main auditorium and enchanted the audience just as much as Madame Dumesnil's. His voice was just as unique as hers, warm, rich, melodious, seductive, and it complimented her voice perfectly.

Roaring applause once again broke lose after the pair finished. Christine smiled at the audience, then made a gesture indicating that she wanted to say something. When the applause died down, she addressed her audience, mischievously asking if they were not curious to meet the wonderful singer, who had just been Alfredo to her Violetta, then added, "may I introduce to you, my favorite duet partner, my former voice coach and husband, Erik Dumesnil!"

Erik entered from the right, thus making sure that his left side was facing the audience, and embraced Christine. Then the orchestra set in, and looking at each other, their profiles turned to the audience, they sang the next duet.

The next morning newspapers were full of praise for the exceptional concert by the Dumesnil couple, stating that not only did Monsieur Dumesnil's voice match the level of excellence of his wife's soprano, but the two voices also blended together wonderfully in the duets, thus creating the most harmonious sound, and more than one reviewer wished the couple would grace the stage of the opera house together.

Xxxx

In October, Heinz and Meg got married. Christine had found a lovely church, where the organ was situated next to one of the side altars, so Erik could do both, give Meg away and play the organ, while Christine sang a beautiful solo right after the couple exchanged their vows. There was a small reception for Meg's and Heinz's colleagues from the theater right after the wedding, and in the evening a wedding dinner for the closest friends of their families. Gertraud and her husband were of course there, as was Gertraud's mother and the Lüders couple.

A blushing Gertraud confided to Christine and Meg that she had just had confirmation from the midwife that a little sibling for Lothar was on the way. "A little girl would be nice," she told them, but I won't mind if it's another boy."

Around the new year, Meg and Christine both found out that they were expecting as well, and roughly four months after Gertraud's daughter Rosemarie was born, Meg gave birth to her first-born son, Klaus. Christine followed two weeks later with another girl, Madeleine Gertraud, named after her paternal grandmother and her godmother.

Once little Madeleine was starting school, Christine, who had done a few more concerts over the years, finally returned to the stage, playing Elyssa in a new production of Chalumeau's Hannibal. She never worked full-time at the Opera again, but agreed to appear in one or two productions every year. Erik was asked repeatedly to play the tenor part opposite his wife, but he always declined, saying that his composing and concert performances did not leave him enough time to attend rehearsals. He did do the occasional duet with Christine at one of her concerts, though.

Since Meg had a second baby only 15 months after her first one, she never returned to the stage, but like her mother before, began teaching the ballet rats. Her husband Heinz danced for a few more years and then went into teaching as well. Gertraud and her husband remained the closest friends of both, the Dumesnils and the Kaldenbücks, and several years later, it was one of Gertraud's rather exclusive afternoon tea-parties, where Amélie Dumesnil-de Chagny, accompanied on the piano by her stepfather who also was her adoptive father, gave her unofficial debut as a soprano, and another year later, she sang Pamina to her mother's Queen of Night in the Berlin opera's new production of "The Magic Flute". The moment it became clear that Amélie had inherited not only her mother's talent, but also her interest in singing, Erik had started tutoring her just as he had done for her mother so many years ago. When Erik came backstage after the performance to congratulate his two songbirds on their success, Amélie hugged him. She brought tears to his eyes when she said that even though she had loved her real father very much, she could not have wished for a better one than him, and that if she could choose herself a father among all the men on this world, she would still pick him. When Christine snuggled up to him and their other children surrounded them, the former Opera Ghost knew that he had found his place in life. He did not mind the struggles and sufferings of his early years anymore, for they had ultimately lead him to this great day, to the love he received from his family and the appreciation and respect he encountered everywhere he went.


End file.
